My Big Fat Gay Italian Wedding
by girlinterrupted12
Summary: Kurt is a nineteen year old lowly waiter living in the upper east side of New York City, while Blaine is thirty and a well-known Italian Mobster with an outrageously nosy family. Join them as they plan the biggest day of their lives. Will it go as planned or will everything just go to hell? Dark Mobster!Blaine and Oblivious!Kurt
1. Prologue

**Warning: This story contain's scenes of homosexuality, violence, course language so please read with caution. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own glee**

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_My Big Fat Gay Italian Wedding_

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Everything was wrong.

Kurt stared around the room in absolute horror as his soon to be husband's great grandmother Catherina Botticelli-Anderson began to hang various assortments of teal fabric in his face, while pairing it with sky blue, trying to convince him that those colors would look amazing together. Pulling his hair in frustration he nearly growled at the old lady for _even_ thinking of bringing that atrocity out in public. Six other relatives had joined them at the Chapel, where they were discussing seating arrangements, flowers and of course food. Gritting his teeth together Kurt reminded himself repeatedly that these people were going to be his family soon so he should value what they have to say, however there were some things that he just couldn't stomach. For instance, flying doves at the ceremony, neglecting the cost and all the other outrageous expenses, there was no way he was chancing having to duck from Bird poop as he walked down the aisle.

Exhaling deeply he didn't even want to think about how much it was cost to rent the Chapel, the banquet hall, the flowers and catering. It gave him a headache just thinking about it. He knew his father couldn't afford any of the expenses and that he was relying solely on Blaine for income and resources. A part of him hated being so dependent but Blaine made the most money between the two of them, since he was only a waiter on the East side at a small restaurant. Although he insisted on paying the bills of the apartment they shared together, sometimes he couldn't help but feel inadequate.

The sweet old lady in front of him, smile knowingly before lowering the fabric. She was the kindest women he's ever had the pleasure of knowing. Catherina was still beautiful, hair tousled with thick black curls and smoldering green to match, she was a fierce and fiery creature who adored him. They sat at a long table with Kurt at the head and she at his right side while the rest of the Aunties and relatives squawked beside them.

"_Il mio bravo ragazzo_—Kurt," She said, suddenly impatient. "What is it that you want?" Her accent was thick and at times hard to understand.

"Not that," Kurt snarled pointing viciously at the piece of fabric.

"We've been through five already," She replied. "How about the red? That would look great with the top hats—"

"No top hats!" Kurt snapped. "I don't want my wedding to be some kind of comic relief. I just want something…Simple, nothing too over the top."

"But Kurt," Sofia cut in. "All the grooms men thought it was a good idea to have top hats and Blaine said so too,"

Kurt glared at her and if she wasn't Blaine's mother he would have said something regrettable.

"No, Wes and David said it was a joke," Kurt said. "There is no way I am having top hats, no matter how tasteful they seem at my wedding."

The women around him sighed and he knew he was being difficult but the colors were too pink, too gay and the flowers were all wrong. He wasn't a _woman_, he was a man and he wanted things to be slightly more masculine. Rubbing his temple for the tenth time that day he decided to call a break and so that he could go and find Blaine. As he walked through the halls of the church he vaguely started to wonder if this whole idea was a mistake. If he was just way too young to be tying the knot so quickly.

It was six months until the wedding.

Then he'd be Kurt Hummel Botticelli-Anderson.

Yeah, try saying that ten times fast.

Cursing under his breath he stormed off towards the kitchen to find said husband who was no doubt charming the pants off the Chef. Over the past month in a half Kurt had been hanging on by a thread. This wedding was supposed to be _his_ day, not eight of Blaine's aunts and relatives. They had been interfering with his plans, decoration ideas, family traditions and all because the wedding wasn't _Italian_ enough for them. They wanted _Chiedere la mano_—Blaine to ask his father's permission for marriage, a diamond ring which was now welded uncomfortably to his ring finger and all the other crazy rituals that he couldn't understand. Since Blaine's proposal they had been bombarding him with ideas, thoughts on how the wedding should go and since they were family he didn't have the heart to turn them down, but now he was pissed. When he reached the kitchen, his eyes were blazing when he saw Blaine—handsome as ever—speaking seductively to the Chef in his native tongue. Dressed in a crisp black suit, with matching slacks, the top button of his white shirt was open, hair tousled but styled nicely with gel; he just oozed sex appeal.

"Hmm," He hummed, in agreement responding to the Chef had said. "_Tortellini con prosciutto liscia topping, con il formaggio avrà un sapore aboslutely divina—_"

"Blaine," Kurt said crossly interrupting him. "I need to speak with you in private,"

"_Il mio amore—_Just give me one second, we are discussing the menu—"

"Now Blaine," Kurt snapped boorishly, he turned and walked out of there towards an empty room. As he paced the room impatiently he could hear Blaine apologize profusely before joining.

"Kurt what is it? You know we only have limited time to discuss what we want—"

"Exactly!" Kurt said throwing his hands up in frustration. "We only have limited time because this whole thing is rushed."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your family is driving me crazy." Kurt snarled running hands through his hair. "Everything is wrong! Nothing is right, the colors are all messed up and Tuxedos with the tails for our wedding day, seriously!? You guys are going to look like penguins! I hate it! I hate it!" He felt himself becoming flustered as tears formed in his eyes before spilling over.

"Shhhh, calm down," Blaine cooed, taking his hands. "You love me don't you?"

Kurt nodded.

"Then you'll marry me in a potato sack,"

Kurt wrinkled his nose causing Blaine to laugh.

"I want everything to be prefect," Kurt said brushing tears away. "I love that they are so involved but I need to do things my way,"

"Come here," Blaine said pulling him into a tight embrace. "_Il mio bel ragazzo_—I will talk to them. I don't like that they've upset you."

Kurt smiled weakly. "It's not their fault. I'm just being overly sensitive that's all. You know me, classic Diva."

"My Diva," Blaine said kissing him firmly on the mouth. Sighing into the kiss Kurt placed his arms around his lovers neck, enjoying the feeling of hard muscles pressed against his. What was meant to be a comforting kiss soon turned heated as Kurt found himself being backed into the nearest wall while Blaine attacked his lips. Moaning softly he arched his hips, as the warmth of Blaine's roaming hands seeped through his clothing. When Blaine smacked his ass he yelped, his eyes shot open and he stared down at his lover.

"The things I will do to you tonight….However, we've got a wedding to plan sweetie," Blaine said pulling away.

Kurt was uncomfortably hard in his jeans and he knew that his lover did that on purpose. "You'll pay for that Anderson,"

Blaine licked his pink lips. "I hope so,"

With lust filled eyes they gazed at each other until Blaine's ringing phone broke their trance.

"Dammit," Blaine cursed staring at the screen. "It's work. I'll probably have to go in,"

"Now?" Kurt sputtered indigently. "You can't just go I need you here, I can't do this alone!"

"I know—_ti prego perdonami_—I'll be back as soon as I can, I promise," Blaine replied, he abruptly grabbed his hand and kissed his knuckles affectionately. "Make sure to keep things _hard_ and waiting for me," He teased.

Kurt ripped his hand away and shoved him playfully. "Just get out of here,"

"Fine," Blaine smirked. "I love you,"

"Love you too," Kurt called as he left the room.

Smiling to himself he wiped the residual tears from of face and pushed that nagging feeling in his gut down. It wasn't that he didn't trust Blaine, because he did—totally and completely it was just that sometimes he got the feeling that his lover wasn't being completely honest with him. He never did understand the secrecy between all of the men that worked for Blaine, or why he was never allowed to actually visit him at work. Shrugging it off he tried to occupy his thoughts on more important things.

Like his big fat gay Italian Wedding.

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**A/N: Hey ya'll this is just the prologue but this story will be plenty dark with lots of fluffy moments. Kurt doesn't know Blaine is in the mafia so what will happen when he finds out? Let me know what you think! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning: This story contain's scenes of homosexuality, violence, course language so please read with caution.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own glee**

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_My Big Fat Gay Italian Wedding_

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"What do you want?" Kurt asked, hip gutted out and his face twisted in annoyance as he cleaned off the counter tops. It was after midnight and he was just about to close up when the door dinged and in waltz the two most _irritating _people that ever existed. Wes and David smiled mischievously at each other before grabbing a seat at a table. At Blaine's request they were both dressed impeccably, black blazers with matching slacks and crisp dress shirts. At times like these Kurt often wonder what the hell they did to have to be dressed like that twenty four seven, in fact he can't even recall a time he's seen them in regular clothing.

If they even owned any.

Despite the fact that he knew little about their job description he did know that they were Blaine's most trusted colleges and he hardly let Kurt go anywhere without them. Their roguish behavior agitated him but he did enjoy their company and they had developed a friendship over the years.

"Is that anyway to treat your customers?" Wes asked, pouting slightly.

"Yeah, Kurt, our money is as green as anyone else's," David said.

Muttering something inaudible under his breath he rolled his eyes. "Are you here to check up on me?"

"No," They both replied in union quickly—_too_ quickly.

"I don't understand why Blaine feels the need to coddle me—"

"You know what he's like," Wes said. "He doesn't like you walking home alone at this time of night."

"I've walked home a million times and nothing has happened to me," Kurt said. "Would you please inform my fiancé that I am capable of taking the few necessary steps to our Condo?"

Once he was done polishing off the counter he made himself busy by restocking the napkin holders and counting the money in the cash box. This little diner had become his sanctuary over the years, when he wasn't accepted into NYADA and his dreams were crushed he got this job by chance and instantly fell in love with his co-workers. The Harris's a where lovely sweet old married couple in desperate need of a waiter to stop their family business from going under. Of course Kurt took the job with much enthusiasm, learned the ropes and began working full time. With his help they started to attract a new and younger crowd.

"I work for him, remember?" Wes said, smiling playfully. "And I doubt he'd listen to me anyway,"

He wasn't going to argue with him on that one because it was true. Grabbing his coat from the office he shut off all the lights and let Wes and David walk out ahead of him so that he could lock the door. The temperature had dropped so he hugged his coat tighter to his chest as they made their way towards his apartment building, which happened to be down the street.

"Wow, thanks again guys for saving me from this exhilarating night. I don't know how I made it here with you," Kurt said sarcastically.

"Just following orders man," David shrugged. "You can hate us all you like,"

"Oh, believe me I will be having words with Blaine when I get home," he mumbled.

"He's not there," Wes replied.

"What?" he asked.

"Got called in tonight but he gives his sincerest apologies," Wes said when they reach the door to his apartment building.

Kurt was tired.

He worked all day, standing on his feet and taking orders from various customers who either barked at him or were just plain rude. What he looked forward to at the end of the day was to cuddle up in bed with his fiancé. Tonight they were supposed to go over what kind of cake they wanted so that they could tell the Cater together in the morning.

This was starting to become a problem.

Blaine always leaving and never around when he needed him.

It was infuriating and he refused to come second to Blaine's job.

"Tell Blaine to go fuck himself with his apologies," He snarled before storming away angrily. Throwing the door open he thundered his way to the elevator before riding it to the twelfth floor. Once he got inside he tossed his coat on the lavish couch and went to the kitchen to pour himself a drink.

The whole condo was ostentatious.

It screamed upper class living and sophistication that had once marvelled him but now he felt trapped—constricted in this huge domain. Everything was beautiful, the furniture imported from Italy, various paintings from Venice and Rome all collected from Blaine's profligate travels overseas. The walls were splashed with beige and the kitchen counter was embodied with marble, along with the tables and chairs hand crafted from mahogany.

It was extravagant, lush, excessive and worst of all _lonely_.

Without Blaine this place seemed emptier.

Bitterly he stripped of his clothes wondering what the hell happened to their life. Ever since the wedding Blaine had become withdrawn, choosing to spend more time at work then at their bed, it was a rare night to have his fiancé home with him. It was bad enough he was kept in the dark about the _nature_ of Blaine's work.

Sighing he went into the bedroom and got himself ready for bed. Switching on the fireplace he dressed in his night clothing and fell asleep curled up with a good book.

**iIi**

"So," A deep voice vibrated in his ear. "I was told to forcefully insert my apologies?"

Rubbing his eyes sleepily he rolled over to see his fiancé still fully dressed hovering on top of him in bed. Blaine's curls were become loose from confides of the gel and his silk purple dress shirt was wrinkled. It was that infuriating smile, dashingly charming voice that made him angrier.

"Where have you been?" Kurt said, struggling to sit up. "I told you we have to go over cakes today and—"

"Babe, I have work you know that," Blaine said tiredly, he stroked his arm languidly momentarily distracting him from his thoughts.

"This is important," he growled.

"I'm here now," Blaine said jumping out of bed. "Just let me shower and change, then we'll talk about it," He disappeared in the bathroom and turned on the shower before Kurt could respond.

Glancing over at the clock he saw that it was after two and they had to wake up early tomorrow to meet with the Cater. Sighing he took out his scrap book that had various clippings of newspaper weddings, articles and magazines covers, all the things Kurt's ever dreamed of. Hastily he flipped to the pages it had on wedding cakes, snatched his planner from the night table and began marking which cakes he liked the best. Compiling a reasonable list he was satisfied with he heard the shower shut off and Blaine came out in just his sleep pants.

"Okay, sweetie—_va bene tesoro_," Blaine said as he crawled on the bed. "You have my undivided attention,"

"This is what I want," Kurt said pointing to the most immoderate cake. It was pure white, layered with silver beads wrapping casually around each mound making it look grand, it also had various red bow placed on different sides. It was simple and cheap but it wasn't his dream cake.

"Then you shall have it," Blaine replied instantly.

"Blaine," Kurt chastised glaring at him. "You can't just say that you have too…." He made the mistake of looking down and seeing the define ripple of his chest flex in the dime light, the slight subtle of hair that caressed Blaine's God like body making him desperately want to run his fingers through it. Clearing his throat he made himself concentrate on forming words. "Do you like it?"

"I like whatever you like," Blaine said shortly.

"Blaine," He whined. "Please this is very important,"

"Alright, alright—_dolce ragazzo_," Blaine moved closer towards him and kissed his cheek. "I like this one over here," He said pointing to another sumptuous cake that was also white but this time covered with red roses.

"That one is a little pricey," Kurt commented but he did really love the roses. "It's beautiful,"

"You're beautiful," Blaine said stealing another kiss, this time on the lips. "Are we in agreement then?"

Kurt thought about it for a moment.

"You know I won't deny you anything," Blaine said nudging his shoulder. "I want you to have everything for your big day and I know you want that cake,"

"How do you know—"

"Because you have it circled three times with the letters 'dream cake' above it," He chuckled.

Kurt laughed. "But it's too expensive—"

"Anything for you,"

Smiling proudly he pressed his lips to Blaine's. "Thank you,"

"Come here," Blaine said dipping his hand between he covers he cupped Kurt's cock, casually sliding his hand up and down.

"No, Blaine," he said weakly pushing him away.

"Why?" Blaine smirked, leaning towards him he let his tongue gaze the side of his ear. "You want me sweetie,"

"I'm tired," Kurt said jerking his face away. "And we have to wake up early tomorrow,"

Rolling his eyes Blaine sighed before getting under the covers. Kurt moved to copy his movements, laying his head on his fiancé's chest he found himself dozing off lulled by the deep sounds of his lover's breathing and the love intoxicating the air.

**iIi**

"_Non capisco_—hmm, how you say—I don't understand you American's," Catherina said loudly at the dinner table.

It was their annual Sunday night dinner at the Botticelli- Anderson's house where everyone gathered around for some good food and even better bountiful wine, telling stories and basking in the abundance of family. Kurt often looked forward to these nights, where he could kick back, relax and enjoy the company of the people he loved the most and who treated him like their long lost sun.

On this particular Sunday the Botticelli- Anderson's were all seated around the table, indulging in classic dinner of pasta and meatballs with a large loaf of bread and vinaigrette as dipping sauce. They ate, talked and laughed reclining in the homey atmosphere. Of course the topic of tonight's conversations naturally steered towards the wedding.

"What's not to understand?" Blaine asked. "American's like things simple and their weddings are pretty much the same as ours only with slight differences,"

"_Nonna_," Cooper cut in. "Its tradition to have a bachelors party before the wedding,"

"When I was little growing up on a vineyard there was no such thing," Catherina said. "We had a marriage and that was it I didn't even see Luciano until our wedding day,"

"Well, Blainey boy does need a night to see all the men he'll be missing out on," Cooper said winking at them.

"As if I need anyone else," Blaine said threading his fingers through Kurt's.

"I hope you know what you are getting yourself into Kurt," Cooper said.

"Oh, I am well aware," He said placing a tiny kiss on Blaine's cheek.

"Ugh, you guys are sickening,"

"Don't be jealous Coop." Blaine smiled. "I'm sure your girl is waiting right around the corner,"

"Speaking of girls," Catherine said sharply. "Shouldn't you be settling down too?"

"Ugh, _Nonna_," Cooper moaned.

"I know a nice Italian girl who would be—hmm, how you say—_magnifico_ for you," Catherine ranted.

"_Nonna_," Alberto said. "I doubt Cooper needs your expertise in catching women,"

Enjoying his food he listened closely to the conversation dancing around him, laughing sporadically at the comments that each family member made. Cooper was the eldest, playful yet at times immature in his pursuit for being abnormal. Instead of going into the family business with Blaine he decided to go into acting, which made his father—Anthony frown in disapproval. Despite the fact that his acting career did not take off he was doing small theater productions. Cooper still loved his job he instantly had this light—wholesomeness about his character that instantly drawn Kurt to him.

Alberto like Cooper had also neglected the family business, choosing to get married to his wife Isabella before settling down and buying a restaurant in the heart of New York. They were expecting their third child and were very welcoming towards him.

What the family business was Kurt isn't exactly too sure.

It was sitting with this family did Kurt notice subtle things for instance, whenever Anthony spoke he had the tables full attention and nobody rarely refuted him. It was a strange level of respect; almost _fear _they had for him. Easily he sat at the head of the table, exuding power and position, he hardly ever uttered a word but even a slight nod seemed to speak volumes. He had the very same striking appearance as Blaine, triangular eyebrows and straight nose with a strong jaw to match, but where Blaine's eyes lit up occasionally his were dead and at times cold. To Kurt they always seemed to be calculating everyone's next move. Anthony was kind to him, yet he felt uneasy around him.

"Thank you," Cooper said. "At least one family member has my back,"

"Come on," Blaine said laughing. "Maybe settling down will do you some good,"

Mischievously Cooper smirked. "I bet you haven't told Kurt about the time you ran through the streets naked?"

Blaine sputtered indigently.

"Oh yes," Sofia said. "We have pictures of that you must see them,"

"No, I don't think that's necessary,"

"You where such a little exhibitionist when you were younger," Cooper teased. "Blaine just loved to walk around without any clothes on—"

"We should all see his baby photos," Catherina said. "Such a—_bel bambino_," She reached over squeezing his cheeks affectionately.

Kurt chuckled. "I'll bet but I'm pretty sure he hasn't much mature since then,"

"Hey!" Blaine cried. "I have,"

"Says the guy who still watches Disney movies," Alberto said.

"They are classics," Blaine defended.

"What are you five?" Isabella said. "Just last week you were watching movies with Antonia and even she wanted to stop,"

"Oh please," Blaine said. "She was enjoying it just as much as I was,"

"That's why she fell asleep," Isabella replied giving him a deadpan look.

"To me she was just resting her eyes," Blaine said sticking his tongue out.

"Well, we will all be 'resting our eyes' the next time you pick a movie for movie night," Cooper snarked.

Blaine was about to respond when the shrill of his phone cut him off, excusing himself from the table he took the call.

"So have you guys decided on what color you guys want to use for the drapes," Sofia asked conversationally.

"Well, I was thinking beige or maybe a light orange but nothing too drastic because I need it to coordinate with the gowns the brides maids are wearing," Kurt said, when Blaine came back into the room he had a very dark expression.

"I need to go," Blaine whispered in his ear.

"Now," He asked, feeling the frustration boil. "We just got here, can't they let you off for one night—"

"You know they can't," Blaine replied hastily. "Look I'll call you later okay, love you."

"Blaine," Kurt tried to call after him but he was already kissing Sofia and Catherina goodbye.

For a second he thought he was seeing things but Anthony who had barely spoken all night nodded slightly at Blaine whom in turn nodded back. Then Cooper's face flashed with worry before he masked it and Alberto gave him a sideways glare and tipped his head to signal affirmation to him. It was a strange exchange, yet he felt like he was missing out on something monumental. In that moment he realized that aside from Cooper they were all dressed like Blaine, in slick black suits, hair gelled and matching menacing expressions.

Gripping his fork tightly he watched Blaine leave for what felt like the millionth time that day. It was hard enough planning a wedding with his family but his lover didn't seem even the least bit interested in spending time with him anymore. Burying his exasperation Kurt smiled until his face hurt and continued to keep up with the facade.

The feeling of anxiety returned this time full force and he knew in his gut that Blaine was hiding something big and nearly everyone seemed to be in on it.

**iIi**

"Did it come in?" Blaine barked as he walked through the halls of shipping building near the docs. On the outside it looked like a standard, ordinary sky-scraper but those who worked there knew differently. Inside the hallow walls laid a vast assortment of rich granite, winding halls and seemingly endless rooms.

It was where Botticelli- Anderson the first built his underground empire.

It's where Blaine promised to continue it.

Ominously he waited patiently to hear the impending news he knew Nick was about to deliver. Over the past couple of days he had been getting an alarming number of his co-works proclaiming that he had a _rat_ in the group, a dirty scumbag who was no doubt reporting back to his rival—The Smythe's— about his many secrets. Grinding his teeth together he felt the rage curl like liquid acid in his veins as he thought about the fucker who had betrayed him.

To Blaine loyalty was everything.

Without it they were no different than the beast in the fields.

However, he was cunning and devised a plan to ensnare the bastard.

"Yes, boss, although we've had a little trouble with shipping,"

Blaine stared at him, eyes narrowed and vivid. "What kinds of problems?"

"None that would make you too happy, sir," The burnet said.

"Who was in charge of the order?" Blaine demanded, strutting towards his office with the man trailing behind him.

"Brandon,"

"Where is the little weasel? Fucking bring him to me. I want him on his knees in my office in ten minutes Nick,"

"Right away sir," Nick disappeared when the reach the dual doors to Blaine's massive office. The entire room had a large red rug expanding down the hall, with a detailed engraved table and rich mahogany chairs. Calmly sitting in his black leather chair behind his desk he waited, threading his fingers together for the man who had been feeding his opponents information about his organization. Taking out his silver Walther P99 semi-automatic pistol he placed on the desk in front of him. Breathing in deeply he braced himself as the screams in the hallway got louder and louder until he doors where bursting open. Flailing his arms wildly it took Wes, David, Nick and Jeff to hold down Brandon as he fought against them with everything that he had.

"No, please! I didn't do anythin' you gotta believe me! I ain't did nothin' wrong," The man ranted, uselessly trying to fight back. "Mr. Smythe he sent me okay? Just to look—please—_Io vi beggin_!" Wes and David forcefully threw the sobbing man on his knees then they jerked his head back roughly.

Condescendingly Blaine glanced down at the man before standing to his feet with the weapon in hand. He gripped it until his knuckles were white as the piece of shit in front of him wailed, pleading pathetically for his life.

"Mr. Smythe sent you?" He asked calmly, pointing the pistol at the man's temple.

"Yes— sì—but just to observed," Brandon replied hastily. "I wasn't going to steal anything! I swear!"

"I welcome you into my family," Blaine snarled, his voice gathering edge. "Treated you like a brother and this is how you repay me,"

"No!" Brandon pleaded, his eyes going wide at the accusations. "They made—"

"How much?" Blaine spat. "How much is Smythe paying you to be his whore?"

"It isn't like that—"

"You are not a man of honor," Blaine growled, finger tightening around the trigger.

"Please, spare me! I will work for you now I promise,"

"You are trying to _fuck_ me and you know what happens when people try to fuck me—_pezzo di merda_,"

The first shot rang out sending Brandon's brains blasting from the confines of his skull. Once the body hit the ground he continuously plugged bullets into the lifeless body smiling as it jerked periodically and blood splattered everywhere, soaking his face and the carpet. Curling his lips upwards he stopped and Nick handed him a silk white handkerchief to clean off his gun. Maliciously with cold eyes he stared at the dead body in front of him before he sneered.

"Get this piece of shit out of my office,"

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**A/N: MobsterKlaine lol Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter and let me know what you guys thinks. This story is unbeta'ed so all the mistakes are my own! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning: This story contain's scenes of homosexuality, violence, course language so please read with caution.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own glee**

* * *

_My Big Fat Gay Italian Wedding_

* * *

"Blaine," He asked as they were cuddled in bed together one bleak morning. The rain had been pouring nonstop throughout the night, leaving the stormy clouds hovering just outside. So they decided to lazily spend as long as they could in bed because neither one of them had work.

"Yeah, sweetie?" Blaine asked, pulling him tighter to his naked chest.

For a minute he hesitated gathering his question. He felt stupid questioning his fiancé but things between them had been off since the dinner with Blaine's family. For the past week and a half Blaine's entire world had revolved around work.

He barely saw him only for a quick hello and then goodbye. If there was one thing Kurt always prided himself about their relationship is that they were honest with each other. Now he got an intrinsic feeling that his soon to be husband wasn't being completely honest with him. It's not that Blaine actually lied about what he did, he was just far too _vague_, omitting certain—probably important—information.

Which was leading to his current suspicion; because in the three years they've been together he never actually noticed how strange it was to have people constantly follow Blaine around, or how odd it was to go into work during unrealistic hours of the day and night. It was certainly peculiar how Kurt was always told about these unseen dangers and frequently needing protection.

From what?

He wasn't exactly sure.

They met when he was sixteen when the Glee club had won its first trip to Nationals in New York City. Deciding to explore the unknown he got lost with Rachel near Times Square and stopped to ask someone for directions. When the dream boat turned around Kurt fell instantly in love and it wasn't long before he was badgering Blaine for his number, they texted for several months before he went to visit Blaine in New York. It often amazed him at how fast things seem to fall into place. Soon after his senior year at McKinley Burt was offered a job there he couldn't refuse, Finn got into acting school and Rachel got into NYDA and suddenly the Hummel-Hudson's were packing up their things and moving to New York. Kurt felt incredibly lucky to live in the greatest city in the entire world, with his family at his doorstep and a wonderful man wanting to marry him.

However, things still felt _off_.

Like, it was all too good to be true.

Everything seemed strategically planned, like someone had mapped out his entire life, which was _absurd_ because things like that never happened. It sometimes puzzled him how easily Blaine was accepted into his family, nobody seemed to question why a man of nearly thirty wanted to date a high school student. Squeezing his eyes shut he wanted to stop these awful thoughts. He knew with all his heart that he loved Blaine.

These suspicions were just going to make things worse.

But at the same time he needed to know.

Gathering courage he asked in a small voice. "What do you do?"

"You know what I do." Blaine said, distractedly playing with the hair at the nap of his neck.

"Yeah but it just….Seems like," he sighed. "Okay, I might sound completely crazy but sometimes it seems like you do something _else_…Like you have another job,"

"Why would I have two jobs?" Blaine asked, although Kurt could see the tightness behind his eyes.

"Just tell me the truth. Lately, you've been distant always being called off to work and you never want to be included in our wedding plans—"

"That's not true. I've been with you through everything. I am just as involved as you are." Blaine defended.

"You never stick around long enough to get anything done."

"Kurt," He said simply as if speaking to a small child. "This job allows us to live in this expensive condo,"

"So what you think I'm ungrateful now? That I mooch off you when I also pay half of the rent too?"

"That's not what I'm saying at all. I need you to understand that my job is very important and yes sometimes I will be away from you but it's never intentional. You think I'd rather spend my days looking at Wes and David?" He smirked.

Crossing his arms he found his resolve weaken when Blaine flashed him a dashing smile.

"Well, Wes is _kind_ of attractive,"

"Not like you baby," Blaine said kissing his cheek. "Look I am sorry about being away all the time and I'll try to make it up to you I promise,"

"Good, you can start now," Kurt demanded pondering his offer for a moment. "I want a foot massage,"

"Then you shall have it,"

"Chocolate cake in bed,"

"I'll lick the icing right off,"

He chuckled. "I want to spend the whole day with you. No exceptions, no phone calls just you and me sweetie,"

"When…?"

"Today," Kurt announced, he twisted in Blaine's arms to look up at him. "I want to spend the whole day with you naked in this bed,"

"Can we watch Disney movies?" Blaine asked eyes adorably extensive.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "If I'm asking you to spend the whole day in bed and all you want to do is watch Disney movies then we've got problems,"

He laughed.

"I meant after I ravish you," Blaine growled, rolling on top of him. Squirming away Kurt giggled loudly, as his fiancé pinned him to the bed and started planting sloppy kisses all over his face.

"Stop!" He cried, trying to shove the curly haired man away.

"Never," Blaine chuckled. "I'm going to lick you up and down then fuck my beautiful boy stupid—_che culo è mio stanotte_—would you like that baby?"

"Hmm," He hummed in agreement slowly grinding his hips on Blaine's leg.

"First I'm going to get rid of these clothes—_bel ragazzo_—then make you cum without even touching you," Blaine whispered, his hot breath trickling his ear.

"Yes, please," Kurt whined, thrusting his hips up desperately.

"Just let me make a few calls," Blaine said placing a firm kiss on his cheek before rolling out of the bed. Groaning loudly Kurt cursed as his fiancé grabbed his phone and went into the other room. He was hard, achingly horny waiting for his boyfriend to come back and ravish him like he promised. Sighing he sat up a little in bed, his face felt hot and flushed from their previous activities and he couldn't help but picture all of the naughty things they were going to do together.

Blaine was an _excellent_ lover.

The way that he spoke in Italian, teasing him with beautiful words and phrases, flicking his tongue in a way that was sinful made the experience much more rewarding. They'd usually spend hours making love, reacquainting themselves with their bodies as if they were discovering it for the first time. He'd always orgasm at least four times; and end up spending the rest of the day horribly blissed out, feeling like his limbs were made of jelly. Blaine taught him so many things, like how to look up while giving head and how to ride his cock precisely in order to gain maximum pleasure.

Yes, indeed Blaine was an excellent lover.

Not that he had anyone to compare him to since he was a virgin when they met. But he's never been so completely taken care off and felt so loved by anyone in his whole entire life. Blaine satisfied him physically and emotionally, often whispering praises and sweet nothings into his ear.

So when his fiancé came back into the room looking exceptionally forlorn he knew that their plan to stay in bed all day had been busted.

"Blaine?" He asked when he saw his face.

"I'm sorry sweetie, there's a problem that I need to solve," Blaine said walking over to their large closest he grabbed a suit off the hangers. "I'll be back as soon as I can,"

"No," He said shaking his head. "Why do you have to leave now and can't they let someone else handle it—"

"Baby, I am the only one who can handle it," Blaine said, tearing off his sleep shirt and pants.

"This is ridiculous they don't expect you to have a life? I thought we weren't going to have any interruptions today—"

"I'm doing the best that I can," Blaine said suddenly irritated.

Kurt stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest. "Why can't you just tell them you're busy for once?"

Pulling up his pants, Blaine looked around distractedly for his golden watch and before Kurt could even blink he was shrugging on a deep violet button up, gelling his hair down.

"I'll be back when I can," Blaine said grabbing his keys and wallet.

He scoffed. "Don't bother and you can take those fucking apologies and shove them,"

"God, when did you become such a brat?" Blaine snarled, storming out the room and through the front door slamming it shut.

Releasing a deep breath, Kurt sat on the bed for a long time thinking about their argument. It wasn't even one of the worst they've ever had but this one was pretty bad. Was he being unreasonable by asking his fiancé to spend just a few hours alone with him? No, he didn't think so. Dragging himself out of bed he went into the shower, already proclaiming that this day would undoubtedly be _shitty_.

**iIi**

"I'm sure that's a lovely idea but I don't think that—"

"Yes, we should get Francesco De Gregorio to attend he is very famous in Italy you know,"

"I don't want live music—"

"Nonsense Kurt," Catherina said waving her hand dismissively. "What you need is a nice Italian singer eh? I expect nothing less and I'm sure my Blaine—_bel bambino_—will completely agree,"

"Yeah but—"

"Now that's settled," Sofia cut in. "Let's talk about the menu. Why do we need a vegan separate menu also vegetarian menu?"

Kurt sighed. "Because some of my friends are vegans and vegetarians,"

"How about they eat before they come eh?" Catherina joked. "Honestly, separate menu's cost more and stuffed shells with Alfredo parmesan sauce is—hmm, how you say— _delizioso_—they'll just have to get over it."

Rubbing his temples Kurt wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. He was seated at the back of the restaurant he worked at with Sofia and Catherina completely frustrated. Both of the women kept disregarding his thoughts and opinions for his _own_ wedding. It was stupid but with everything going on and Blaine becoming increasingly distant he felt totally alone. Even his dream cake was tossed out and as much as he didn't want to go crawling back to Blaine for help he needed his lover to keep his family in check.

"Kurt?" Mr. Harris said he was the kindly old man who ran the restaurant. "I need you back in a few minutes,"

Nodding slowly he looked at his soon to be in laws that were now squabbling over locations and dates. "I need to get back to work,"

"Okay, sweetie," Sofia said kissing his cheek. "We'll be here when you get back. Are you alright you look a little pale sweetie?"

"I couldn't sleep last night," Kurt said smiling sadly, his bed felt far too empty without Blaine in it.

"Ahh," Catherina said eyeing him knowingly. "Did Blaine keep you up all night? Well, I'm happy your satisfied the Botticelli-Anderson's men are well endowed," She winked.

"_Nona_!" Sofia cried scandalized.

"What?" Catherina asked innocently. "It's true no?"

Cracking a smiling he shook his head before getting back to work. On some level he knew that they meant well it was just this was supposed to be _his_ day. He wanted everything to be prefect and wouldn't accept anything less. Of course their opinions matter to it was just his mattered _more_. He had a long shift tonight so he wanted to get as much done as possible. Walking around the tables he took various orders, being polite and outgoing, asking the customers if they needed anything else. After about an hour and a half into his shift he noticed a well-dressed man in a black blazer and slacks enter the restaurant.

This guy came in at the same time every day.

Sat in the exact same corner and ordered an Espresso.

Unbeknownst to Blaine, the stranger flirted shamelessly with him, always complimenting him on his clothes, hair and of course physic. At times it made him uneasy but he was flattered nonetheless by the attention. Strutting over to his table Kurt whipped out his note pad and smiled at the brunet dressed in all black. What Kurt would never tell lover was that the mysterious stranger was incredibly handsome. Smoldering green eyes, cocky expression and a well-defined body that a sculpted by the hands of god.

"Hello," Kurt said as he approached the man's table which was always situated near the back away from all the windows. "What can I get for you?"

The unidentified man leaned forward. "How about a kiss?"

Kurt laughed. "No, that is certainly _not_ on the menu,"

"Come on," The stranger said, smiling brightly. "How can you walk around in those ungodly jeans all day—no doubt teasing the life out of me—not at least grant me a kiss?"

"I can and I will," He smirked. "Your usual is coming right up," Striding away he knew full well that the man was checking out his ass but he didn't really care. Blaine had his fair share of admirers so he simply shrugged it off. When he came back with the Espresso he placed it on the man's table.

"Come to dinner with me," The man said abruptly. "I'm sure I can teach you a few things your fiancé can't."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "What part of not in this life time do you not understand?"

"I can wait," The man grinned.

"Look, I'm sure the right guy is out there somewhere," Kurt said gently. "But he's just not me,"

"Fine, how about lunch? You do eat don't you?"

"My fiancé always picks me up at lunch,"

"Then we'll make it a threesome," The guy winked.

"Do you ever give up?"

"No, not when I see something is worth it," He replied, eyes roaming up and down Kurt's body. "And you _are_ most defiantly worth it,"

Unable to stop himself he flushed deeply causing the stranger to laugh. "You are so adorable. Please let me take you out,"

"I—I can't,"

"You know every time you say no I'll just want you more,"

Kurt scoffed. "And if I punch you then what?"

"Oh, I like a little pain before pleasure,"

"Ugh, you are vile,"

"That may be," The man stood, downing his shot in one gulp before throwing some cash onto the table. "But I like a challenge Kurt and if I have to work to make you spread those pretty legs of yours then I will,"

Blushing bright red Kurt nearly choked on his words.

"Good day," The man said disappearing out the door.

Standing in the middle of the restaurant with his mouth hanging open, Kurt could hardly believe the nerve of that guy. Exhaling loudly he shook his head out of the foggy haze before getting back to work. He got hit on all the time so there was absolutely nothing to worry about and no reason to go crying to Blaine about it.

Nope, none whatsoever.

As he walked around the tables he began cleaning some of the garbage off when a cold shiver ran down his spine.

"Well, well, well if it isn't fairy Hummel,"

**iIi**

Rolling a hundred dollar bill in his hand Blaine leaned over the table where three lines of white powder were on his desk. Placing the rolled bill under his nose he sniffed each line rubbing his nose at the slight burn. Leaning back in his chair he waited for the cocaine to start taking affect, his limps began to unwind and the room started looking less ominous and more like a playground, with various assortments of colors dancing before his eyes. It was tradition to get high after he killed someone.

And today he had killed three people who were reporting back to the Smythe's.

Those goddamn parasites were a disgrace to the Mafia.

They ran dirty money through prostitution, drugs and stealing giving nothing back to the people who helped them out in the first place. While Blaine dabbled in drugs occasionally he didn't make a career out of it because it was just easy money. He made his way through an honest living, investing in small town bakeries and restaurants run by the poor Italian's in Brooklyn. And sometimes he'd get them to sell drugs for him and occasionally he'd use their hard earned money for gambling but that all came with the territory.

He provided the muscle, cheaper products—imports and exports—resources for their companies and all they had to do was be indebted to him. If they didn't pay their debts then Blaine had a problem but other than that they were like family.

The Smythe's were fucking with his family.

A soft knock on the door brought him out of his musing.

"What?" He called licking the powder off his fingers.

Wes opened the door timidly before striding in with David on his heels. "There's a problem boss,"

Blaine sighed.

"Isn't there always," He muttered. "What now?"

"Enzio Bonnatti is not happy with the products that were delivered last week. He said the meat was bad when it was dropped off and now he wants a refund," Wes explained.

"You can tell that sobbing fat sack of shit that I don't _do_ refunds," Blaine growled.

"Boss do you really think that's wise—" David started but the shrill of the phone cut him off.

Mumbling under his breath Blaine snatched the phone off his desk. "Yeah?"

"Kurt is on line one, sir," Jeff his secretary said.

"Tell him I'm busy," Blaine said agitated.

"He's hysterical and desperate to talk to you,"

Pinching the bridge of his nose Blaine closed his eyes tiredly. "Tell him I'll call back—"

"He says if you say that he'll burn all of your precious bow-ties and red pants,"

In spite of himself he smirked, proud of his boy for being persistent. "Fine, put him on,"

"Blaine?" A small voice said on the other side.

In a flash he could see his boyfriend curled up on bed, face splotchy and eyes red from crying. Curling his hand around the phone he gripped it dangerously tight wondering who had the fucking _gall_ to make his lover cry.

"Sweetie? What is it?" he said instantly worried.

"Are you still mad at me?" Kurt sniffed, his voice cracking on the last words.

"No, no of course not, why? What's going on?"

"You haven't been home all day," Kurt continued. "I just….Miss you and I need you,"

"Okay, I'm on my way right now, but can you please just tell me what's wrong?"

"I—I can't," Kurt burst into tears on the other line and Blaine found himself moving faster than he's ever had, shrugging on his coat and grabbing his keys.

"Stay with me beautiful, I'm on my way,"

"Okay, hurry please," Kurt said before he hung up.

"Blaine—" Wes chastised, about to give his our work is important speech but Blaine cut him off.

"Kurt's in trouble," He said hastily putting the cocaine in his top drawer before locking it. "I trust you guys can handle whatever problems there are,"

"You're high as fuck there is no way you'll be able to drive now," David remarked coolly.

"Shit you're right—_maledetto_—fuck it," He shrugged waltzing out of the room.

Jumping into his Rolls Royce he drove carefully down the street. In his jacket he felt stifled and hot, sweat was trickling down his face and neck as he tried to remain calm and ignore the stimulant drug pulsating through his veins. Gripping the steering wheel tightly his hands shook, the darkness allowed the lights to appear more luminous, brighter and vivid than he's ever seen before, in his abrupt fascination he nearly ran a red light and almost laughed at his stupidity.

Pulling in to his familiar parking lot he parked the car, got out and tried to walk as calmly as possible to the front door. Taking in a few deep breaths he tried to fix his appearance by patting down his hair and trying to wrinkle out his suit. His eyes were a little blood shot red but there was little he could do about that now. Once he got inside the apartment he noticed that all the lights were off and he stumbled around for a bit until he reached the bedroom.

"Kurt?" He called, taking off his silk jacket.

When he got inside the bedroom he saw that his lover was curled up in bed, eyes swollen and face marred with a frown.

"Hey, don't cry you know how much I hate it when you cry," He said climbing onto the bed fully clothed gathering Kurt into his arms. "What's wrong?"

"I just missed you," Kurt whispered burying his face in the crook of Blaine's neck.

"You are a shitty liar you know that right?" He said kissing Kurt's forehead. "I'm about to go crazy please tell me," He begged.

There was a long painful silence before Kurt finally spoke.

"I saw _him_ again,"

Grinding his teeth together Blaine couldn't stop his fist from balling tightly until his knuckles were white. Fury unlocked the heat in his veins until all he could see was red and even the thought—the very inkling that the bastard had been in a three mile radius of his Kurt drove him mad. Into a blind rage he fell, the fear and hate merging with passion, pending coursing like wild fire through his veins.

"I'll fucking _kill_ the bastard," Blaine promised with a vengeance.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter. I like my characters to be twisted so get ready for the Rollercoaster to begin! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Warning: This story contain's scenes of homosexuality, violence, course language so please read with caution.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own glee**

* * *

_My Big Fat Gay Italian Wedding_

* * *

"No!" Kurt cried, clutching at his shirt. "Please don't he doesn't mean it he's just struggling with his own sexuality—"

"I can't believe you're defending him," Blaine barked, turning his murderous glare onto his fiancé who shrunk away.

"I'm not baby," Kurt replied cautiously. "I just don't think he's worth the fuss. I'll just get Mr. and Mrs. Harris to not let him in,"

"Bullshit," Blaine spat. "What the fuck are two old _decrypted_ people going to do against that burly man? No, first thing tomorrow morning you are going to quit," He announced sliding off the bed, tugging off his silk purple button up.

"What?" Kurt asked, looking after him completely astounded. "I can't quit—I love my job,"

"It's not safe Kurt," He reasoned walking over to the closest he took off his pants and then underwear. "I don't want you there where that homophobic asshole can come in anytime and harass you,"

"There's homophobe's everywhere. So what? I should stop going to the grocery store? Or walking down the street?" Kurt asked incredulously.

"If it keeps you safe," He said shortly.

"No, I don't want to leave I love working there and he doesn't come in all the time," Kurt said and then sighed. "Please don't overact and come to bed,"

"Do you know how terrifying it is to get a call at work from you crying? I was scared to death Kurt," He said crawling back into bed and under the covers. "We need to make sure this doesn't happen again, maybe Wes and David should accompany you to work?"

"No," Kurt said adamantly. "I refused to be treated like some goddamn prisoner Blaine."

Looking into the steady blue glazed eyes of his lover, he rubbed his chin pensively before clicking his tongue. "Fine, we can do things your way and I'll let you handle the situation."

He was doing no such thing.

"Thank you," Kurt said, placing a small kiss on his cheek. "I'm sorry I made you miss work,"

"Don't be ridiculous," He said waving it off. "Let's just go to bed okay?"

Nodding Kurt snuggled against his chest and he was out in a few moments but Blaine couldn't sleep. With the drugs impairing his thinking and making his body feel completely wired he devised a horrid plan to make Kurt's tormentors death look like an accident. He'd skin the guy alive if he could, string his balls up and then cut off his dick while he screamed in agony. Then he'd have the pleasure of drinking his blood while laughing manically. Yes—there was no doubt in Blaine's mind that the man would die a horrible painful death, worth only for the _vilest_ of men. What he was certain of was that David fucking Karofsky was not going to be alive by the end of this week.

Not if he had anything to say about it.

**iIi**

That morning Blaine awoke to the smell of pancakes and music filling the house. Stumbling out of bed naked he waltzed into the kitchen to find his boyfriend hopping around in nothing but a long dress shirt, just barely covering his white creamy legs singing along to whatever song was on the radio. Stroking himself a few times he slowly walked up behind Kurt, causing him to yelp in surprised before whispering into his ear.

"I guess now we have all day to make up for what I missed yesterday," Kurt moaned softly and he forcefully gripped the flimsy dress shirt, hiking it up before slowly trailing his hands up and cupping his now erected dick between his legs.

Breathing harshly Kurt pushed back into his cock, laughing mischievously while turning around and placing a tiny wet kiss on his lips. "I don't need to prepare much. I spent all afternoon fucking myself with a dildo on our bed…"

And that finally did it, giving an inhuman growl Blaine roughly grabbed his arms, turning him around so that he was pinned against the marble counter top. Easily Kurt grabbed onto the kitchen counter to steady himself. Yanking hips in place, he held Kurt there, pushing the tip of his cock between his butt cheeks. Reaching into one of the drawers he snatched out a condom and some lube, applying a generous amount to his engorged dick.

"You asked for it beautiful— _Ora ho intenzione di scoparti_—would you like that?" He whispered heatedly, licking the shell of his ear.

"Yes, please yes," Kurt whimpered.

Grunting he eased his hips forward moaning as his boy began to stretch around the head of his cock before his puckered entrance swallowed it whole and he filled Kurt torturously till the hilt. With his forehead against the counter Blaine could hear his baby panting, whining in pleasure as he waited for him to get accustom to his girth. Becoming impatient Kurt started to rock his hips and he smirked at his eagerness.

"I can take it, Blaine…I want it, baby…Give it to me…" He choked.

Tangling his hand in Kurt's hair Blaine jerked his head back, grabbing a bruising hold onto his hips and slammed forward making him cry out desperately. "That what you want— _il mio piccolo slut_?"

Screaming out, his toes curled and head flung back, "Yes! God, yes! Fuck me!"

Pounding into him Blaine could see that his knuckles were white from gripping the counter; toes were digging into the floor. Frantic to keep him upright, his legs stung deliciously as he began thrust with vigor into Kurt. There were no words spoken; only the sound of two savage boys, growling and grunting and the sound of flesh smacking and the squeak from Kurt's sweaty toes sliding across the linoleum as Blaine held him tightly and fucked him harder.

Blaine's knees were weak and his arms ached from holding on so tight when so much force was pushing his lover forward. Sliding over Kurt's back with one arm around his waist and one hand on top of Kurt's on the counter, he laced his fingers through Kurt's. His sweaty chest slid against his boyfriend's back, damp hair and scruffy beard were scraping against his boyfriend's cheek as he panted out, "I'm not going to let you fall, baby…So just let go,"

Kurt screamed; his entire body flushed pink as his orgasm tore through him, spattering all down the tile floor beneath them. Grunting in approval Blaine increased his plunge panting wildly as he felt the incredibly burn as his balls tightened and dick hardened before he was cumming deep inside his boyfriend's ass. Loud sparks of white lights flashed before his eyes and his whole body trembled as he rode the high tides of his orgasm. Pulling his cock out he caught his beautiful boy—a trembling mess—before he fell onto the floor. Sodden with sweat and other bodily fluids he crushed Kurt to his chest turning him around slowly to fuse their lips together as he drove his tongue down his throat.

Finally breaking free from his swollen lips, he panted softly as he ran his fingers through his sweaty hair. Picking up the shredded remains of the shirt Kurt was wearing earlier, he gripped his fiancé tightly before nibbling on his neck and rolling his hips unhurriedly, relishing those last few strokes.

"Can you walk?" Blaine whispered smugly, knowing full well that if he wasn't here to hold Kurt up he'd be in a pile of goo on the floor.

Shaking his damp hair, chest still heaving Kurt chuckled, "You know I can't…." He started playing with the hairs on Blaine's chest. "But maybe after a shower we'll see after round two,"

**iIi**

Several rounds later Blaine was finally getting dressed for work, his fiancé gloriously passed out on the bed. In a silk baby blue button down and gray slacks, he began gelling his hair back, and then started smoothing the winkles out of his shirt. He had a meeting with his father which was now loathing with each passing minute. These meetings were always so tedious, just his over protective father checking up on how he was running things and he often felt like he being treated like a petulant child. Anthony knew damn well that he knew how to run a business, spending eight years in business school taught him a lot, but he knew it took less education and more street smarts to run _his_ family business. Sighing he kissed Kurt's cheek, placed a note near the side of the bed before he left.

Wes and David met him at the door and they drove in silence towards his home. While they drove he took out a small vile of white powder in his pocket.

"Really, Blaine?" Wes said agitated. "You'll only be in there for a few minutes,"

"A few minutes too long," He grumbled. "Look, I love my father but it's so much easier listening to him when I'm high," With that being said he place the cocaine on his finger, taking a deep sniff before relaxing languorously into his seat.

"Maybe he just wants to talk wedding plans?" David said hopefully as he swerved onto their street. Ignoring the question he gazed out the window, satisfied when the drugs finally started taking affect. Just one of the perks of having this type of job, he could get high whenever he wanted. Pulling into the vast driveway Wes opened the door and Blaine got out quickly.

"Wait out here," Blaine ordered. "I shouldn't be too long,"

Walking up the winding stonewall staircase he reached the wooden dual doors and opened them with his key.

"Blaine," Sofia said, embracing him. "_Dove sei stato_? Your father has been asking for you. It's not good to keep him waiting you know," She let go and then started smoothing out his shirt. "You look tired? Have you not been sleeping? _I tuoi occhi sembrano morti_—Maybe you should rest here tonight eh?"

"Mamma," Blaine said slightly annoyed. "I'm fine and plus I need to get home to Kurt,"

"_Si_," She sighed. "Well, I'll let you handle business with your father and we can talk wedding plans tomorrow? _Affrontare_?"

"_Si_," Blaine said kissing her cheek. "I'll call you tomorrow,"

Sliding past her, he went to his father's study room and knocked quietly on the door before entering. Anthony Botticelli-Anderson sat at a large desk with a cigar firmly between his thin lips, he smoked indolently.

"You're late," Anthony commented, his tone bored and disinterested. "I told you to arrive at one and its well after three,"

"I had things to attend to," Blaine replied, shoving his hands into his pocket. Standing in the middle of the room he felt a little uncomfortable but he just knew this is how his father demanded respect so he endured it.

"No doubt," Anthony mumbled. "You should have let your _Nona_ find you a nice Italian boy so that you could teach him the family business—"

"There is a reason I didn't want to her to do that." Blaine cut in. "I don't want anyone I marry to have anything to do with the family business,"

Titling his head slightly he stared at his son. "So you prefer an outsider—"

"I prefer Kurt," Blaine snarled, feeling his temper rise. "I want him to remain pure and innocent from all of this,"

Anthony scoffed. "You're hands are _filthy_, Blaine. How long do you think it'll be before it starts to get on him? How long do you think it will take for him to become tainted huh? He will find out,"

Turning his face away he refused to respond to that statement.

"Well, who says it won't all come out on your wedding day? You guys will bring a whole new meaning to matrimony," He smiled.

Blaine's lip twitched and he smirked at his father.

"Look," Anthony said, taking a long pull of his cigar he inhaled deeply. "I know you love Kurt and so do I. That's precisely why I want you make sure he's fully committed not just to Blaine but to Blaine _Botticelli-Anderson_,"

"I'll tell him soon," Blaine lied. "Just not right now,"

"Fair enough," He exhaled. "Okay, now let's get down to business. I heard you executed Brandon, why?"

"Because he was reporting back to the Smythe's about our shipping arrangements, schedules and products," He replied.

Anthony's face hardened. "_Quel piccolo stronzo_—That no good little piece of shit. I should have had his balls cut from his body,"

"Well, now he's keeping the fish company,"

"Where their others?"

"Three much, all of which I eliminated yesterday,"

"Ah," Stubbing out his cigar Anthony stood from his chair and walked around the tabled. Clapping Blaine on the shoulders he laughed heartedly. "You are a Botticelli-Anderson after all—_il mio ragazzo_—I am so proud,"

"Thanks," Blaine said. "Now, I really must be going Kurt is expecting me back,"

"Of course, of course," Anthony said quickly. "Your mother will be disappointed you are not staying for dinner,"

"Maybe some other time," Blaine said patting his dad on the back. "I'll see you later,"

"Si," Anthony said kissing Blaine on both of his cheeks and watched him walk towards the door but before he could open it Anthony spoke. "Oh, Blaine,"

"Yeah?" Blaine stopped his hand on the door.

"We might have one small problem,"

"What's that?"

"Burt Hummel,"

**iIi**

"But Dad," Kurt sniffed, tears falling form his eyes. "You can't,"

"I know kiddo and I'm sorry but like I said I might be on the road during that time," He said on the other line.

"Then I'll reschedule everything," Kurt said adamantly, his voice breaking. He gripped the phone tightly as if it was his lifeline.

"You can't do that. With the amount of money, time and effort you've put into your wedding…Look you know I'd love to be there buddy—"

"Then why don't you just fly back for the day!" Kurt cried. "I can't get married without my father—? Who's going to give me away?"

"Shhh, calm down," Burt cooed on the other line. "Look nothing is for certain alright? I'm just giving you a heads up on something that might happen,"

Taking a few shaky breaths Kurt, grabbed a few Kleenexes from the side of the bed. It was like the entire universe was trying to fuck up his wedding. First his cake, which was now not even an option thanks to Blaine's family and now his own father couldn't make it. Thinking back on his relationship he knew his dad has never been a big _fan_ but he's been supportive nevertheless.

"Dad," Kurt asked cautiously, swiping at the residual tears. "Are you sure this has nothing to do with me marrying Blaine? Because I know he isn't you favorite person in the entire world—"

"No he isn't," Burt said strongly. "And I won't hesitate to tell you what a big mistake I think all of this is but you're my son and I love you and if he makes you happy…..Then so be it,"

"Okay," He breathed.

"Now, I want you to come and visit soon okay? I don't see you enough these days,"

"Anything for you Dad," Kurt said sadly.

Burt sighed. "Look, I didn't say that to destroy all over your wedding plans, I will try my best to make it but I won't promise anything...I just want you to be happy. Plus, Carole is making dinner this Friday, Finn and Rachel said they'd stop by so why don't you bring Blaine and we'll have a nice family dinner,"

"Okay," Kurt perked up a little. "We'll be there at seven,"

"Alright, well I'll talk to you later. Love you kiddo,"

"I love you too,"

"Oh and Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful around those Botticelli-Anderson's, okay?"

Kurt completely blanched.

It was the first time he's father has ever _warned_ him about Blaine's family. The uneasiness in his stomach returned and he felt like his father knew something vital to what was going on but refused to talk about it. Growing frustrated he gripped the phone tightly to stop himself from demanding answers.

"Why do I get the feeling that you are hiding something from me?" He spoke calmly, voice betraying his emotions.

"I just want you to be careful," Burt reasoned.

"Listen," Kurt said, his voice gathering edge. "I don't need to be watched over like some infant. I can very well take care of myself!"

"I know you can—"

"Well, then stay out of it! Since you don't care enough to even _attend_ my wedding and since you refuse to even give my fiancé a chance I don't think it's wise to have dinner at your house." Kurt replied haughtily.

"Come on buddy don't be like that,"

Pinching the bridge of his nose he inhaled sharply. "Goodnight father,"

"Fine," Burt said, sounding resigned. "But don't say I didn't warn you," Then he hung up.

Slamming the phone down, he growled under his breath. Everything was beginning to get so fucked up and not even his father was willing to support him. Not to mention his fiancé who was nowhere to be seen these days. For a minute he considered calling his dad back to apologize, he hated when they fought but decided against it because Burt owed him an apology _not_ the other way around. He had done nothing wrong. Rolling out of bed, his knees nearly crumbled under him once they touched the floor. Sex with Blaine always left him feeling sedated and blissed out. In fact, he stared up at the clock and realized that he had been asleep all day. Glancing at his vanity table he saw that Blaine had left him a note with his credit card tapped to it, since he knew he had broken his promise to spend the day with him _again_.

Striding towards the bathroom he figured he might as well take _full_ advantage of the shopping spree he was just granted.

**iIi**

"Fancy meeting you here," A voice said.

Kurt nearly jumped out of his skin when the figure walked up beside him. Placing a hand over his heart he looked up at the stranger who was leering down on him. It was the _obnoxious_ dashingly handsome guy from the restaurant.

"What are you stalking me now?" Kurt asked, eyeing the man suspiciously.

He laughed. "No, can't a guy go shopping in the same vicinity as the object of his affection without it seeming like he's a creep?"

"No," Kurt responded.

The man chuckled. "I see you've decided to splurge. Although, someone should inform you that these sales will be going on tomorrow,"

"I'm on a shopping spree," Kurt snapped, defending himself.

"Ah, let me guess your boyfriend is trying to make up for cancelling his plans again," The man said.

"I knew you were stalking me!" Kurt accused. "Let me guess you have my phone tapped? Hidden cameras perhaps? You do look like the serial killer type,"

"If I say yes to the hidden cameras will you put on a show for me later?"

Kurt grimaced causing the man to snicker.

"Nah, I'm just good at reading people. Plus you have _neglectful boyfriend_ written all over your forehead," He teased.

Kurt playfully slapped the man's arm. "Jerk,"

He guffawed, dodging away from the blow. "Well, since you're obviously planning on making him broke, how about I accompany you?"

"I don't think so," Kurt said walking past him.

"Why not?" He asked, trying to keep up.

Clicking his tongue he debated his argument before actually speaking. He guessed outright telling the man to fuck off was impolite but he needed to get rid of him somehow. "Because you obviously know nothing about fashion,"

He snorted. "Who are you the fashion police?"

"Exactly, you'd just annoy me with your comments on how everything is overpriced," Kurt answered tiredly.

"Everything _is_ overpriced," The man answered. "Who's going to pay fifty dollars for ripped jeans that look like they've been in the trash?"

"Exactly," Kurt said. "Why don't you scamper off to the sports stores or somewhere else that proves your masculinity?"

He chuckled. "You aren't getting rid of me that easily Kurt,"

"You do know that it's really creepy that a complete stranger is calling me by my first name right? "

"Well, how about I introduce myself? Then I won't be a _complete_ stranger,"

Curiosity got the better of him and he was oddly intrigued by the handsome stranger. "Fine go ahead,"

"First, will you allow me to carry your bags and accompany you around the mall?"

Sighing he figured there was no harm in that but the persistence of this guy made him feel discomforted. Sensing victory the man started to grin. Rolling his eyes he said. "Alright! But keep your suggestive comments to yourself,"

The man smiled wide, exposing a set of pearly white teeth. Something about this man made him feel exceptionally troubled; his gut was screaming that something was wrong.

"Deal, Princess," He said slyly. "My name is Sebastian Smythe by the way,"

* * *

**A/N: I hope you guys are enjoying the story! Please read and review I really do appreciate the comments. Ohh, I wonder what will happen next! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Warning: This story contain's scenes of homosexuality, violence, course language so please read with caution.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own glee**

* * *

_My Big Fat Gay Italian Wedding_

* * *

Swinging their hands, Kurt smiled looking up at the beautiful sky above. The weather had been unseasonably warm, so they decided to take advantage of it and go walking through central park. Fall was his favorite time of year, not because of the brusque smell of bark and leaves in the air but the beautiful colours all around them. Dressing in a stylish navy blue pea coat and his lucky black boats he hung close to his fiancé just wanting to bask in their togetherness.

"You okay?" Blaine laughed, feeling Kurt's arm tighten around his.

"Yeah, I just missed you," He replied dreamily.

"Well, I'm here now," Blaine said. "I'm sorry I've been away so frequently…Things have been crazy lately,"

Instantly he was tempted to ask what things specifically but he knew his questions would be unwelcomed. Sometimes he felt like their whole relationship was for show and that Blaine had a completely secret life he knew absolutely nothing about. He could feel his dad's warning sending off giant red flags in his head, there was something peculiar about Blaine's secrecy. Maybe if it was some other day he would have demanded to know what the hell was going on, but today he just wanted some peace and quiet.

"How about we have the wedding here," Blaine asked abruptly.

"What?" He asked. "No way,"

"Come on, what's wrong with central park?"

"Despite the fact that it's hobo - central? And there's pee like _everywhere_," Kurt said wrinkling his nose.

"So? All we need is me, you, a priest and a few relatives," Blaine replied. "It'll be short and sweet. We could even have the reception at your dad's house,"

Frowning, he turned away unable to think about the fact that his dad wouldn't be able to attend his big day. "If he comes," He muttered.

"What?"

Kurt sighed. "My dad can't come,"

Stopping their pace Blaine turned to him sharply. "What the fuck do you mean?"

"He—He said he'd be on the campaign trail that week so he won't be able to fly back as quickly," Kurt explained.

"If it's about the cost of the ticket—"

"It's not that. He just…..Look, you aren't his favorite person in the world and he just thinks I'm too young—what? Blaine!" he yelled as his fiancé suddenly spun around and started striding in the opposite direction dragging him along. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to march up to your father and declare my undying love for you because clearly, he doesn't think I'm serious enough," Blaine muttered.

Kurt laughed. "Come on, don't be silly. He's just worried about me and he thinks I should be in college experiencing all those things that students do; alcohol poisoning, date rape, you know, the usual."

"Am I holding you back from that?" Blaine asked darkly. "Did I somehow manage to convince the dean that they shouldn't accept you because I'm some greedy bastard who can't be away from you?"

"No, of course not—slow down," He said, struggling to keep up.

"Call your father and tell him you want to see him for lunch," Blaine demanded.

"No," Kurt said, wrenching his arm away from Blaine's.

"Why—"

"Because this is _our_ day, I haven't seen you in so long can't we just enjoy it together? We can see my father tomorrow," Kurt said stubbornly. "Now, we are going to walk through this park holding hands and I don't want to hear any more about it,"

Blaine smirked shaking his head.

"Anything for you," Blaine said, taking his hand again. "_Il mio bel ragazzo_,"

**iIi**

Burt was a simple man.

He loved his wife, adored his family and kept the ones he loved close, often ruling over them with an iron fist and a soft heart. It wasn't frequently someone came into his life whom he instantly got a bad feeling from, at least until now. Since the day Blaine Botticelli-Anderson walked into his life he knew the man was nothing but trouble. He heard the rumors about the dangerous man because they were all over New York City. Nobody messed with the Botticelli-Anderson's or else they'd disappear. Having ruled over the upper east side of New York for over a decade, they were known for money laundering, illegal drugs, prostitution, gambling and worse; unexplained murders.

They had corrupted cops, judges, lawyers, and half the goddamn city eating out of their hand, the whole idea sickened him. What made things so unbelievable worse was that Kurt was kept strategically oblivious to everything. Since he was sixteen he's known nothing about the horrors that his fiancé has done. Blaine Botticelli-Anderson stood for everything he was trying to eradicate by running for congress. However, he and his family seemed to be untouchable and now that Kurt was wrapped up into this mess people were starting to point their fingers at him.

Sighing, Burt scratched his head, wondering where his hair had gone in the last three years before loosening his tie.

"Tell them I'll meet them at the Café down the street," He muttered into the speaker phone.

"Yes, Mr. Hummel," His secretary said, then hung up.

Seeing Kurt for lunch was always a welcomed affair. He missed his son dearly, hardly having any time with him because of his travels and of course, his intense dislike for Blaine. Despite the fact that if his son's fiancé was ever charged and convicted he could go away for a long time, he could tell that Blaine loved his son deeply.

Some would say even past the point of sanity.

Grabbing his jacket off the chair he shrugged it on his shoulders before exiting the office. Although he loved his job, making a difference in society is always amazing, sometimes he missed the garage and having a simple day tuning up cars and having a beer. Walking out the door he strolled down the street finding his favorite little café in no time. Once he got inside he glanced around briefly before he heard the airy laugh of his son and walked towards their table.

"Blaine stop," Kurt giggled shying away from his advances.

Muttering in Italian, Blaine was kissing up his neck while Kurt blushed, half-heartedly trying to shove him away. Clearing his throat they both jumped apart, looking completely guilty.

"Well, don't mind me," He said.

"Dad," Kurt stood, launching himself at Burt. They embraced and he started wondering how much Kurt had grown in the last few months, because he was standing almost taller than him.

"Jesus kid," Burt commented. "What the hell are they feeding you? You're almost as tall as me,"

"Oh you know, steroids," Kurt joked. "I ordered you a green tea because I'm sure you are well aware how bad coffee is for you,"

"Of course you did," Burt muttered, sitting down at their table.

"Hello Burt," Blaine said, stretching his hand across the table politely.

"It's Mr. Hummel to you,"

"Dad," Kurt chastised.

"Of course, I'm sorry Mr. Hummel," Blaine said hastily.

"That's better," Burt said, ignoring the hand that was stretch out towards him. "Now, what did you call me here for?"

"Dad," Kurt barked glaring at him. "I believe Blaine is saying hello to you,"

Huffing, he shook Blaine's hand once before turning back expectantly to his son.

"Did you forget your manners back at the office?" Kurt snapped.

"It's okay," Blaine said, softly touching his arm. "We, um, well I wanted to know why you won't attend our wedding,"

"Can't," Burt corrected. "I can't attend because I have other things to do—"

"Listen if it's about the plane ticket—"

"No, it's not. The Hummel's don't take or need handouts, thank you very much," Burt said sharply.

"Dad," Kurt reproached. "This is the biggest day of my life and you won't come….? Why? If it were Finn and Rachel you'd be there—"

"It has nothing to do with sexuality," Burt said. "I'm so sorry that you would even think that because I've always accepted you. I just think you are way too young."

"But—"

"Kurt, I think your dad and I need some time alone," Blaine suggested calmly.

Looking between the two of them, Kurt stared at him and Burt knew he was wondering if he should really leave him alone with his fiancé.

"It's fine," He said waving his hand dismissively.

"Okay…" Kurt said, reluctantly getting up. "I'll just be over there if you need me,"

Looking back at Blaine he watched his whole demeanour change from calm and cool into one representing the slick criminal he was. Placing his arms on the table Blaine leaned in closely, his smoldering eyes flickering with mischief that made Burt feel incredibly uncomfortable.

"You know," Blaine started off slowly. "When Kurt told me you wanted to run for congress I was behind you one-hundred percent,"

"I fail to see how that has anything to do with—"

"Even when you were losing," Blaine cut in. "When there was six days left and your polls were third runner up to your opposition, you had no qualms about asking my father for help. Not to mention the money loans for your campaign trail."

Burt blanched.

He could recall that day just like it was yesterday. In his desperate attempt to win the election he had asked Anthony to use his resources and friends to get him in. The bastard had got him there, no matter what he said now he would always be in debt to the Botticelli- Anderson's.

"I am a business man Burt,"

"What is it that you want?" He answer resigned.

"Simple," Blaine replied casually leaning back in his chair. "I just want Kurt to be happy,"

"I don't want him to marry the likes of you—"

Blaine scoffed. "As if you're any different. Politicians are just as crooked as criminals, only instead, they hide behind the law to save their asses. Nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, makes your _shit_ smell any better than mine,"

Fuming silently, Burt glared at the man.

"I love Kurt," Blaine said. "I don't care if you think I'm too old or he's too young. We are going to be family whether you like it or not. I'd rather have us get along for Kurt's sake. And if I ever mistreat him in any way you can personally kick my ass, but until then I will cherish and adore him. I would like for you to attend our wedding,"

Although he hated the bastard, there was something he could admire; that was his courage and determination. "Wow kid, you've got some balls,"

Blaine shrugged. "What can I say? I've been waiting my whole life for your son,"

"Look," Burt reasoned. "It's not a question of if you love him or not. I'm concerned about the world you are sucking him into. He doesn't even know what you do and trust me he isn't the sort of person to just sit back and take being lied to. What do you think is going to happen when he finds out?"

"I promised my dad I would tell him before the wedding. This isn't something I take lightly either,"

"I'll make you a deal then," Burt said. "If you claim to love him as much as you say, tell him before the wedding, and if he still wants to go through with it then I'll come."

For a second he caught a glint of anger in Blaine's eyes but he quickly masked it. "That sounds fair enough,"

"I mean everything, no white lies or half-truths,"

"I will,"

"I want your word,"

The struggle became obvious as Blaine gritted his teeth together. "You have my word as a Botticelli-Anderson," The two shook hands briefly and Blaine called Kurt back to the table.

"Well, you guys don't look like you want to kill each other…" Kurt said as he sat down. "What happened?"

"I should probably get going," Burt said looking at his watch. "I have a wedding speech to write,"

"Really?" Kurt broke out into a grin. "Are you going to come?"

"Yeah buddy, I'll be there,"

"Oh, dad, you have no idea what this means to me," Kurt hugged him tightly. "Thank you so much,"

"I love you kiddo," Burt said holding him close. "I'd do anything for you."

**iIi**

Later that night in his office Blaine pulled out a letter from his bottom drawer. It was in a thick envelope with NYADA's address scattered on the top - right corner. Opening the package he read the letter for the fourteenth time assuring himself that he had done the right thing.

_Dear Mr. Hummel,_

_Congratulations! We are excited to have you attending our school in the fall. We look forward to receiving your acceptance into this school…_

Pulling a lighter out of his pocket, he easily lit the frail sheet of paper on fire. It wasn't that he didn't want to Kurt to attend school, at the time he just needed his fiancé to focus on _him_ and not be worrying about courses and horny college boys.

Especially the college boys.

When the letter fell into a pile of ash on his desk, he smiled satisfied. Leaning back in his chair his grin widened when he heard rustling in the kitchen and he knew Kurt was probably fixing them dinner. Shredding the rest of the envelope he opened the window to get rid of the smoke and walked out of his office locking the door behind him. Kurt knew that Blaine didn't like it when he was in there that way he locked the door.

Strolling into the kitchen he found his fiancé in nothing but a kitchen apron.

Palming himself through his slacks he laughed watching his boyfriend dance around the kitchen, occasionally wiggling his naked ass for his enjoyment.

"You are so naughty," Blaine said gazing at him with hooded eyes. "_In questo momento vorrei venire a letto con te _- would you like that?" He gripped the flimsy hot pink apron Kurt was wearing, trying unsuccessfully to rip it off.

"No," Kurt laughed squirming out of his touch. "We have to eat dinner first,"

"Ugh," Blaine groaned. "You can't torture me like this beautiful,"

"I can and I will. I want to thank you properly…With my mouth, lips and…tongue," He drawled the last word, smiling mischievously.

Licking his lips Blaine stared at him wondering where his baby penguin had gone. At the beginning of their relationship it had taken him nearly a year to get Kurt comfortable with even the idea of touching each other but now he was a little vixen. "You'll be the death of me,"

"Death by fucking," Kurt mused. "Sounds like a good way to go,"

Smiling at his fiancé he took a seat at the table. "Okay, what are we having?"

"You favorite," Kurt said placing a large plate in front of him. "Penne with Vodka Sauce,"

"Thanks babe," Blaine said digging in. "Hmm, god, I want to ravish you. This is amazing, you know the way to my heart,"

Kurt blushed and sat beside him eating his food. "Thank you for today. It means a lot that you were willing to talk to my dad,"

"See, I told you all he needed to know was that I loved you and that I wasn't going to treat you like those other guys," Blaine replied. Reaching over, he gripped Kurt's soft hand squeezing it affectionately. Seeing his fiancé flush, he felt his heart swell with unexplained pleasure. It was hard to articulate, it was like his chest was ready to rip open because his heart was pounding so hard and fast.

He loved Kurt more than anything in his whole life.

Losing interest in his food he simply gazed at his boyfriend across the table that was adorably eating and humming softly. His tongue tied and his throat constricted, he considered telling Kurt everything about his life, the family business and being forced to eradicate his enemies. Something harsh twisted in his stomach, stopping him from spewing his guts because he knew once he started he wouldn't stop, and he didn't think Kurt could handle the entire truth.

Plus, he didn't want to risk losing him.

Losing Kurt wasn't even an option.

Bringing Kurt's knuckles up to his lips he kissed them before eating his food. "I got us tickets to Company,"

"What? No way!" Kurt said excited. "They're sold out!"

"I know," Blaine smirked. "I reserved the entire balcony for us and an after party with the cast,"

Kurt squealed bouncing up and down in his chair. "Thank you so much!"

"Well, I figured since I've been an asshole, you know working a lot, we haven't really spent any time together. Due to my family's insistence, we should have a date night."

"Hmm," Kurt leaned over the table pressing a firm kiss to his cheek. "I love you," He peeked. "I love you, I love you,"

"Prove it," Blaine growled capturing his lips heatedly. Just as he was about to drag Kurt into the bedroom, his cell phone started ringing. Pulling it out of his pocket he ignored the accusing look his boyfriend was shooting him across the table and answered the call.

"Yeah,"

"We found him," Wes said on the other end.

"Okay, hold him until I get there," Blaine said ending the conversation.

Kurt sighed. "Don't tell me—"

"I have to go beautiful," He said standing to his feet. "Dinner was lovely and I'll be back as soon as I can,"

"Please don't go," Kurt whispered, his eyes filling up with tears. "I thought we were spending the whole day together—"

"We will some other time babe, I promise," Blaine said putting his empty dish in the sink. "Why don't you call one of your friends and go out?"

"Friends," Kurt scoffed. "I hardly have any,"

"That's not true, you have Rachel and Mercedes—"

"They're in school," He replied bitterly.

Frowning Blaine approached him, dragging his boyfriend to his feet. "How about this beautiful, after the wedding you can enroll into NYU or NYADA, apply anywhere you like, okay?"

"Okay," Kurt nodded, sniffing. "But I still don't want you to go,"

"I'm not cruel Kurt," He said pushing his fiancé up against the counter. "I will never leave my baby unsatisfied," Tugging on the apron he smirked when it unraveled easily exposing Kurt's creamy white skin. Slipping his hand between his boyfriend's legs he stroked his cock while licking the shell of his ear. "When I get back you better be hard and waiting for me because I'm going to fuck you all night,"

"Ugh," Kurt grunted thrusting his hips up. "Yes, please stay,"

"Later baby," He kissed the side of Kurt's cheek before letting go and disappearing into the bedroom to change, laughing when he heard Kurt yell in frustration.

Blaine loved winding him up like that.

**iIi**

David had done a lot of things in his life.

But pissing off a major mobster was defiantly not one of them. Still, for some reason unknown to him, he was kneeling down with a dark silk bag over his head, arms and legs handcuffed behind his back waiting for the crime lord to enter. Ruefully, he thought back on his life and wondered what the hell brought him into this situation, was it the sneers he made against that couple last week or perhaps he fucked the wrong guy at that gay bar he went to the other day? Still, in his own incoherent thoughts he knew that this situation was bad.

Today had started off like any other, he went to work at the construction site, made homophobic jokes while cowering his own sexuality then, as he was buying food, he took a shortcut through the alley way, suddenly being knocked over the head and dragged into a white van with people dressed in black. Breathing in deeply, he tried to recall every shitty horror movie or thriller that started off like this, but the police always found the bad guys, right? If he could just reach his cell phone in his back pocket maybe he could call them, the only downside was that he couldn't see shit.

Just as he was about to reach his pocket, the bag was ripped off his head and he squinted his eyes into the light. The room was very large, exquisite even, with a red maroon carpet stretching around the tile where he was kneeling. Three men stood casually around the room, each dressed in black military clothing caring AK-47's and guns. Taking a sharp breath he saw a man with slicked hair and a menacing expression seated behind a large wooden desk, casually playing with his pistol.

"David Karofsky," The man said tiredly. "You are one fat fuck,"

Straightening his back David stared at the man defiantly. "Who the hell are you? A Scarface-wanna-be?"

The man smirked, turning his vicious gaze onto him. "Worse,"

Gulping, David watched the man stand to his feet with the gun still in his hand. "Listen man, I didn't mean anything by it and whatever you want my dad will pay,"

He scoffed. "I don't want your fucking money. As you can see, I don't need it,"

"Then what do you want?" David asked, fear finally settling into his bones.

He grinned; it was a bleak twisted thing. "_Ti voglio morto; una morte lenta, dolorosa -unobtrusively_,"

"I don't understand," David said.

"I said I want you dead; slowly, painfully—unobtrusively,"

David choked on his words. "What—why? What have I ever done to you?"

"Do the words _'Fairy Hummel'_ mean anything to you?" The man asked.

David's eyes widened. "You're Kurt's crazy boyfriend? I fucking knew you looked familiar. Listen man, I didn't mean anything by it, we just kid around sometimes I call him a fairy—"

Before he could blink, Blaine smashed his pistol against the side of his face. Unrelenting pain exploded in his temple as his head forcefully swung to the side. Hanging his head low he groaned, it felt like a bulldozer had run him over.

"Say fairy again," The man sneered. "I _dare_ you,"

Blood was pouring from his temple and he could taste its raw metallic tone in his mouth. It was in that moment he knew he was going to die. Nothing flashed before his eyes; not his life with his dad or all the men he had fucked and left behind, just an ocean of blankness as Blaine raised the gun pointing at his knee cap.

"After this you'll be begging me to kill you,"

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the late update! I just had surgery so I'm basically bed ridden for the time being, although I'll try to get the chapters up as soon as possible. Thanks a BUNCH to my Beta ElleA26it! She did was wonderful job editing this chapter for me. Keep in mind that reviews do help me update faster;) **


	6. Chapter 6

**Warning: This story contain's scenes of homosexuality, violence, course language so please read with caution.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own glee**

* * *

_My Big Fat Gay Italian Wedding_

* * *

"Rachel," Kurt breathed, hugging his friend tightly. "To what do I owe the unexpected visit?"

"Please," She laughed, pulling away. "Now I need a reason to visit my best friend?"

"Yes," He said playfully. "You're lucky I'm on break,"

Together, they walked towards an empty table and sat down. Rachel looked beautiful as ever in a tight black dress, leather boats and a white pea coat.

"Hmmh,"He hummed, glancing over her attire. "Kurt Hummel approves,"

She smiled. "I knew you would,"

"So," He leaned forward in his chair. "Give me all the dirty details. I want to know, what's going on at NYADA? How did the Broadway auditions go?"

She chuckled. "Wow, does working here mean you can only talk through one breath?"

"I'm serious," Kurt groaned. "Please, I'm dying being stuck here in the dark,"

"Why don't you just apply there next semester? I'm sure they'd take you," Rachel said.

Kurt sighed. "I didn't get in the first time and nothing has changed since then. What makes you think they'll accept me now?"

"Because they're idiots and maybe if you volunteered more at the theatre—"

"No," He replied shaking his head. "I work full time and between planning the wedding and Blaine, I couldn't possibly."

"Oh yeah," She smirked. "Your sugar daddy…. Listen, why don't you just take some time off from work? I'm sure they'd understand..."

"I have a wedding to pay for—"

"Oh please," Rachel scoffed. "We both know Blaine has probably already paid for the whole thing in advance,"

Kurt was stunned into silence.

Although he knew Rachel was probably joking, it didn't escape the fact that Blaine had most likely paid for the entire thing already. It was just so Blaine; to do something like that and allow Kurt to believe he was contributing when he actually wasn't. Sighing, he felt frustrated and sad, because he wanted to help out too. It didn't aid his belief that there was a fundamental flaw in their relationship.

"Hey," Rachel said softly, touching his hand. "Are you okay?"

"Never better," Kurt said, squeezing hers back.

"Okay, well, this wedding will be insanely cool. I've already talked to Mercedes and Tina, they're on board for the guys to wear top hats!"

"Top hats," Kurt stuttered with a horrifying expression. "W-who told you they were wearing top hats!"

Rachel's smile widened. "I'm kidding,"

"Hilarious," Kurt deadpanned. "You nearly gave me an heart attack,"

"You were just being so serious," Rachel chuckled. "Okay, so, NYADA; I have to tell you about midnight madness, and this super cute guy who you'd totally dig if you were there…."

Half an hour later Rachel was shrugging on her coat and kissing him goodbye. It was always fun catching up and he felt sad to see her go, but he was meeting Blaine for lunch.

"Call me soon, we need to have a girls night," She said kissing his cheek. "I love you, and don't look so sad,"

Kurt kissed her back. "I love you, too and I just feel like I should have been there with you,"

"You will and we can gossip together, okay?"

They hugged one last time and she left. Sighing, he went into the backroom and took off his apron, placing all the tips in the cash box. For a moment he stood behind the counter just wondering how different his life would be if he had gone to college. He'd probably be studying musical theatre and he'd meet a bunch of new sophisticated friends who were just like him.

"Hey beautiful," A smooth voice said interrupting his thoughts. "Ready to go…?"

"Yeah," said Kurt, walking over to his fiancé and kissing him firmly on the lips. "I'm ready,"

**iIi**

"_Fags_,"

Blaine's jaw locked, rage coursed through his entire body when he heard that word. After Kurt's lunch break they were walking back to the restaurant holding hands as his fiancé talked excitedly about the wedding and the fabric that he wanted to buy, when they walked past a group of men. The air was chilly and Kurt clung onto him to keep himself warm. Wes and David hung back behind them, keeping a safe distance. Blaine's blood ran cold and he stopped dead in the middle of the street turning to stare at the man who had the audacity to say that.

"Baby, let's just go," Kurt said, gently tugging on his arm.

But Blaine wasn't going anywhere.

With his eyes blazing he approached the man.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" He growled, stepping towards the group of men who were just loitering against the side of the building, some leaning and some sitting. They had their work equipment on, so he assumed they were construction workers.

"You heard me," One guy came forward, spitting on the pavement. "Goddamn fairies," His skin was brittle, old and stretched across his face. Although he didn't have much body mass, he glared at them menacingly.

"No, I want you to say it to my face, _breeder_," Blaine sneered, standing bold in front of the man who had a good two inches of height over him.

"Blaine," Kurt said horrified. "Come on, let's just get out of here," He shrunk back when he saw Wes and Dave flank Blaine with matching looks of malevolence.

"You better listen to your wife," The guy spit, smirking when a few of his friends chuckled.

"I reiterate, say the fucking word to my face, you fucking coward," Blaine said slowly.

The man leaned forward, his breathe strong and foul.

"_Faggot_,"

Blaine pulled out his pistol, curled it in his hand before slamming it into the guys face. He shrieked cowering, trying to stop the bleeding from his nose but Blaine was on him again, pounding his face into the ground with the blunt edge of the gun. The men were shouting, some running and some staying to watch. Blood gushed from the fraction in his skull, face started to swell, blood sputtered and skin ripped to shreds by the blunt piece of metal. There was a sickening crunch sound every time ridge steel met flesh. Blaine almost laughed manically; it made him feel joyous trying to shove the man's face into the pavement. With great restraint he pulled back when he saw the man was barely conscious. Satisfied, he pointed the gun into his neck he smiled, bleak and twistedly.

"Now," Blaine taunted. "What were you saying about fags?"

"Sir, I think we should get going," Wes said, looking around suspiciously.

"I think you are right," Blaine stood up from the ground and shoved the gun back into his hoister belt. "One more thing," He swung his foot into the man's gut before spitting on his face. "That's what we _fags_ can do," Straightening his jacket, he grabbed Kurt's shaking hand and began their walk back towards the restaurant. When they got there he noticed that Kurt had hardly said anything and when looked at him he saw he was absolutely terrified.

"Baby, are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" Kurt said the words slowly. "You just beat a guy on the street! And you're asking me if I'm okay?"

"Yes,"

"Where the hell did you get a gun—"

Blaine scoffed. "Everybody has a gun and I do believe your dad has several."

"He uses them for hunting and not hurting people—"

"He hurt us first!" Blaine exclaimed. "We shouldn't have to be subjected to harassment every time we walk down the street."

"So beating people up is your solution,"

"Getting even is mine," Blaine growled. "I can't just walk away or stand there and be harassed; I won't play the victim,"

Stubbornly, Kurt crossed his arms over his chest. "Were you ever going to tell me about the gun?"

"It was for our protection," Blaine reasoned. "My job isn't exactly...The safest thing in the world,"

"Honestly," Kurt threw his hands in the air. "I don't even know what that means—"

"You don't have to," Blaine said smoothly. "Just trust me, and know that I love you,"

Regarding him for a moment, Kurt wondered if his fiancé actually believed that that would appease him. This whole secrecy thing was getting old, and quickly. If Blaine wasn't willing to tell him the truth then maybe he'd have to find out on his own.

"Come on," Blaine said grabbing his arm. "Let's get you back to work,"

**iIi**

A few days later Kurt was on the couch when he felt it.

The air was sizzling around him, things were vibrating at a strong frequency and it was something Kurt just couldn't understand. It was like he could feel the anger and frustration rolling off his boyfriend, like in waves. A cool draft entered the room and he shuddered, pondering what could have possible pissed Blaine off so bad that he had to move around their apartment like a rabid dog—a ferocious being—stalking and plundering through the halls, seeking and searching for something. It was like watching a natural disaster; he clearly had no control over it.

Like a ticking time bomb.

All day he watched his fiancé exasperated, storming around their apartment, cursing and throwing papers in the trash can. He came in and out of his office periodically to get something to eat and to rummage around in the drawers of their bedroom searching for papers. After last night, Kurt wasn't sure what he thought about his fiancé; all he knew was that there was something wrong. Blaine had never been that forceful with him before and it was almost like he felt a sense of entitlement—like Kurt owned him or something ridiculous like that. Sitting on the couch he continued watching _Project Runway_, ignoring the grunts and cursed he heard in the other room. An hour later Blaine came back, grabbing his coat and keys off the counter.

"I'm going out," He said simply.

"Oh," Kurt answered, a little unsure of what to say since they've barely spoken all morning. "Where are you going?"

"I need to see Wes about a few things," He replied coldly.

"Okay,"

There was an awkward pause before Blaine huffed and left the apartment, slamming the door on his way out. Rolling his eyes he settled back into the couch and continued watching his program. Once it was finished he went into the kitchen and decided to clean up some of the mess left over from the morning's breakfast. Putting the dishes in the dishwasher, wiping down the counter and putting some chicken into the oven, he began to mull over his fiancé's irregular behavior.

Glancing towards the end of the hall, he saw the light shine through the door. With a puzzled expression he walked closer, only to see that the light was coming from Blaine's office. The room he specifically told Kurt never to enter, the room he constantly had on lock and key. Fidgeting with his sleeve, he wonder if he should close the door, maybe Blaine had left it open accidently? Maybe he'd be back and didn't think Kurt would look inside. Shaking his head he decided to leave it alone and when Blaine got back he could deal with it.

However, he couldn't help but wonder why he wasn't allowed in that room.

Why was his fiancé so secretive about his work life?

With great effort he distracted his thoughts with cooking. No, Kurt would not betray Blaine's trust by snooping through his things; that was so _Desperate Housewives_. Humming softly, he worked diligently on dinner, satisfied when the chicken came out golden brown perfectly seasoned and soon he got started on the rice. Still, there was that nagging feeling in his gut, a haunting intuition that maybe Blaine wasn't entirely honest with him?

Looking at the door one last time he felt torn.

_Omission is still lying_.

How deep was he willing to go to find out the truth?

**iIi**

Later that night Blaine was sitting at his desk, annoyed and tired.

It had taken a shit ton of money to get that guy not to press charges against him. Having men on the NYPD police force did help the situation immensely but still, there were a lot of eye witnesses. Groaning softly, he checked the time and realized he had just missed dinner with his Baby. Kurt would no doubt be pissed, and when he got home he'd be facing _hellfire_.

"Alright," He said to Wes and David. "Let's call it a night,"

"Sure boss," David said. "Are you still coming to Nick and Jeff's engagement party?"

"When is it?"

"Next week Thursday,"

"Sure," Blaine shrugged. "I'll try and make it. I can't believe that son of a bitch is getting married," He said smiling fondly. "Seems only like yesterday I was telling him to go flirt with the new Secretary,"

"Yes, well, without your influence I'm sure we'd all be wandering in the dark," Wes responded sarcastically.

"Awe, come on, you aren't still mad, are you?"

"You publically beat a man almost to death. If I'm not mad at you no-one will be," Wes answered tiredly.

"You're still my favorite minion," Blaine joked. "Nobody died; that's a good thing,"

"No," Wes said ominously. "But you risked exposure,"

"Please," Blaine scoffed. "Everyone around probably thought it was gang related,"

"Kurt didn't,"

Blaine's smile faded.

"He knows something now, with dispersed knowledge comes suspicion," Wes continued. "How long do you think it will take to ask somebody about the famous Blaine Botticelli-Anderson, huh?"

He glared at Wes. "He won't—"

"He _will_," Wes snapped. "The Smythe's are moving in on our territory, you've managed to royally fuck up by beating someone in public and now we've got NYPD breathing down our fucking necks,"

"I'll handle it," Blaine barked. "I've been doing this a long time, hell, longer than you so just shut up and let me deal with it,"

"Whatever," Wes said stalking out of the room.

"You know Wes, he's all doom and gloom," David said. "NYPD is a piece of cake to get rid of, and the Smythe's have taken over a little territory that isn't even worth defending, just lay low boss." He patted Blaine on the back before grabbing his coat.

"Love is trust," He called as he walked out of the room.

Rolling his eyes he pondered David's statement for a second. Love is trust and if he didn't trust Kurt then who did he trust?

No-one.

That was the answer; in his line of business he trusted no-one. Pulling a cigarette out of the package, he lit it up and drew the smoke into his lungs before exhaling. Leaning back in his leather chair he thought about how different the world would be if he had just told Kurt from the beginning. Would he run away screaming? Or would he had simply nod and change the subject? No, Kurt was naturally inquisitive; he'd want to know more. That was something he couldn't do; Kurt was the representation of everything that's pure and young in the world. In the pit of his stomach he hated to say it, but maybe Burt Hummel was right, maybe they weren't meant to be together...

No, he couldn't think like that. They belonged together and he was going to marry Kurt, regardless of what anyone said.

Kurt was his.

Arching, he moved his shoulders up and down trying to release some of the tension there. The war with the Smythe's wasn't particularly high on his list because they weren't much of a threat. Lucky Santangelo-Smythe had been large in the sixties, but his empire had long since died by then, although there was his son Sebastian Santangelo-Smythe who was crawling his way up to the top, taking out smaller business, gambling at the casino and of course pushing small drug shipments. Not enough to make him any sort of competition but enough to catch Blaine's attention. He'd keep an eye on the boy, and if he interfered with his business one more time he'd have to send Mr. Santangelo Smythe a _very_ personal message.

Nobody fucked with Blaine Botticelli-Anderson.

Yawning loudly, he stretch his limbs, hearing them crack and pop back into place. Sliding out of his chair he stubbed out his cigarette, grabbed his coat and shut off all the lights. On his way home he stopped by the flower shop to get some roses for Kurt, mostly to save his ass. When he got into the apartment he saw that majority of the lights were off and the front door was left open.

Pulling his gun out of his back pocket, he gripped it tightly between his hands before discretely gliding through the door. With his back up against the wall he held the gun straight out in front of him. It was pitch black inside; the only light that illuminated was by the moon. He tried to keep his vision sharp, listening carefully for any movements. Loud shuffling of papers soon caught his attention and as he eased his way through the kitchen he saw that the light in his office was on and the door was wide open, shining into the darken hallway. Breathing in slowly he moved attentively, fingers gazing the trigger but his entire arm locked and ready to fire.

Peeking into the door he saw all of his things rearranged, disorderly and thrown about, onto the floor and scattered on his dresser. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, with the gun out he walked slowly into the room, pointing the pistol at the intruders head.

"Drop it, Kurt."

**iIi**

Santana Lopez didn't consider herself to be a bitch, she was just _honest_.

Many people didn't see it that way but hey, that was their problem, not hers. It amused her to no end to bring out a person's worst qualities all by saying a few words. She guessed that's what got her into the position she's in right now. For her, things never seemed to fall into place and sometimes, if she was being completely honest, it made her bitter; some days she couldn't stand to look in the mirror. She reasoned that it was all a part of her fucked up life. Gutting her chin out, oozing confidence, she walked down the plain dark halls in her silk satin white dress and red six inch heels.

She didn't belong there, everybody knew that.

Sometimes she wondered why she was here.

Then she'd think of her sweet innocent little girlfriend, a dancer at one of the clubs and know why. If it hadn't been for Sebastian, her girlfriend would be dead and so would she. Strutting towards the door she knocked twice before entering.

"You rang?" She muttered sarcastically to the asshole sitting behind the desk.

The man smirked. "I did,"

"What do you want this time?"

He leaned back in his chair observing her. "You know that that snotty attitude is what got you in this position to begin with, so, if I were you I'd lose it, quickly,"

Santana matched his look, placing her hands on her hips.

"Good. Now, back to business….I need you to start pushing the cocaine,"

"What?" Santana asked, completely shock. "We-we already have too much, people aren't buying these days—"

"Well, make them," He said simply.

"I couldn't possibly," Santana reasoned. "Everyone is working overtime as it is,"

"Are you saying no?" The man said his voice dangerously low.

"Of course not," Santana said coolly. "I just think we should be logical about this,"

"You work for me, Mrs. Lopez and unless you want that pretty little girlfriend of yours to have an unfortunate accident I suggest you to do as I say," He snapped.

"Hunter, please—"

"Please what?" He sneered.

"You can't ask me to go behind Sebastian's back. He gave me strict orders—"

"Now, I'm giving you orders. And since my brother is far too weak to get things going, we have to do things a little differently," Hunter snarled. "Move the fucking cocaine. I don't want to hear any more about it,"

Santana held her breath, feeling frightful eyes pierce her body. "Yes, sir,"

"Excellent," Getting up off his chair he moved to stand in front of her. "Here," He said, holding hundred dollars in his hand. "Some money for your troubles,"

Santana looked at it and knew the consequences if she didn't take it. Reaching out, she moved to grab it but Hunter dropped it on the floor. He smirked at her, obviously expecting her to pick it up. Gritting her teeth together, she slowly slid to the floor, snatching the money quickly.

"Once a whore, always a whore," He scoffed. "Now get out, go do something useful like spread your legs at that club you work at,"

Curling her hand into a fist she gladly left the room.

If it wasn't for Sebastian she would have torn Hunter's face off, but if there was one thing she was good at it was revenge. As long as she lived there was no way Hunter Santagelo-Smythe was going to take over his father's empire.

Not if she had anything to say about it.

* * *

**A/N:Yes y'all, Sebastian and Hunter are brothers! WOW, thanks to all who review the last chapter they really mean a lot :) Also a HUGE thanks to my Beta**** ElleA26it who did an excellent job editing!** If I get a lot of reviews for this chapter I'll update faster. So what do you guys think? Now that Blaine is showing his true colors and Kurt is being suspicious, will their relationship last? 


	7. Chapter 7

**Warning: This story contain's scenes of homosexuality, violence, course language so please read with caution.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own glee**

* * *

_My Big Fat Gay Italian Wedding_

* * *

Sam slammed his fist against the counter.

It was the second dead end witness this week. Growling under his breath, he tossed the case file back into the pile. It was a fucking waste of time trying to get anything to stick to Botticelli-Anderson; he was slicker than a plastic bucket of grease. For three years Sam had been trying to build enough evidence to form a case on Botticelli-Anderson, but all of his leads either disappeared, were far too unstable or the evidence wasn't admissible in court.

"Where are you?" He snarled, staring at the large picture of Blaine hanging on his wall with various red marks showing his connection to illegal gang activity. There were so many things wrong with the reasons why Blaine was never caught. The drugs, the money laundering, gambling and infrequent prostitution signs all pointed to him, yet Sam couldn't prove a damn thing. Since the Botticelli-Anderson's owned a legitimate business, ran a few restaurants down on the upper east side of New York, paid their taxes and were upstanding citizens, there was nothing he could do.

Leaning back in his chair detective Evans needed to find some way to make these charges stick and be admissible in court. It was time to bring them down; Blaine was a low life scum who deserved to rot in prison forever if he had anything to say about it. Picking up the disregarded file he read it over again, trying to see if he missed anything important.

"Evans!," His boss yelled storming into his room.

"Yes, Sue," Sam answered tiredly, not bothering to look at her.

"You are done,"

His head snapped up. "What?"

"I'm pulling the plug on this case,"

"But-t you can't!"

"I can and I will," Sue said, placing her hands on her hips. "This has gone on long enough,"

"Just yesterday some guy was assaulted in public by Anderson—" Sam paused. "Someone paid you off, didn't they?"

"Doesn't matter," Sue smirked. "This is over and if you refused to follow my orders I will have you suspended and your badge revoked. You need to drop the Botticelli-Anderson case once and for all, got it?"

"You can't fucking do this to me!" Sam roared. "I've dedicated three years of my life to bringing that motherfucker down!"

"Well," Sue answered. "Now you can start focusing on other things...Like reconnecting with your lesbian ex girlfriend? Or travelling, perhaps? I don't really give a shit what you plan on doing, just stay away from this case. As far as you know, Anderson is clean." She thundered out of his office slamming the door shut behind her.

For a moment Sam just stood behind his desk wondering what the hell had just happened. Once again Blaine had fucked him over and was now working with corrupt police officers like the notorious commissioner Sue Sylvester. After three years of working on this case Sam wasn't just going to let it go. No, he would do whatever it took to bring Blaine down, whether it was legal or not. Sitting down in his chair, he began to work diligently; the only way to beat Blaine was to play his game. Picking up the phone, he dialed number one for his secretary.

"Hello,"

"Hi, get me the number for Sebastian Smythe,"

**iIi**

"What the hell is this?" Kurt snarled holding up a thick envelope.

Blaine lowered his weapon. "It's nothing that concerns you,"

"The hell it doesn't!" Kurt roared, throwing the paper onto his desk. "What are all of these Blaine? Huh? Tax recites and forms? All of them in your fucking name?"

"Just calm down for a second—"

"Don't tell me to calm down, you lying son of a bitch!" Kurt yelled. "This entire apartment has been rented out in your name! Nothing is mine here! Even the goddamned magazines that come weekly are yours! I deserve to know where the hell my money has been going!"

"Kurt, please, just relax. I can explain everything—"

"No, I don't want to hear any of your lies," Kurt glared at him. "How could you do this? I thought we were building a life together—"

"We are—"

"No, you just want to control me." Kurt said, tears now gathering in his eyes. "Well, fuck you! I won't be treated like this!" Moving hastily, he almost ran out of the room, but Blaine caught him around the waist. "Let me go!" He cried.

"Listen," Blaine hissed. "_Non farei mai nulla per farti del male_— have I ever done anythin_g_ to make you feel like I am treating you poorly?"

"Prove it! You lying sack of shit!" Kurt spit.

Releasing his hold, Blaine walked over to his desk and pulled out an envelope. "There," He threw it at Kurt, making it land on the floor with a thud. "Open that, and then call me a liar!"

For a moment Kurt stared at it, but curiosity got the best of him, so he picked it up and opened it hastily. Loosening his tie, Blaine watched as his fiancé's face changed from anger, to shock, and then finally regret.

"That's where all your money's been going," Blaine spat, tugging roughly on his tie.

"Blaine…." Kurt whispered, tears streaming down his face. "You did this….?"

"Of course I did," Blaine fumed. "I did it all for you and you couldn't even…." He huffed. "Why can't you ever trust me? Have I ever lied to you?"

"No…God, I'm so sorry...I can't believe...This is after we get married?"

"Well, I don't want to stay in the city forever. And you always talked about your dream house, so,"

"This was more than I could ever imagine." Kurt said, his voice sounding small. "Baby, I'm sorry—"

"Forget it," Blaine snapped, grinding his teeth together. "It's late and I don't particularly want to talk to you right now."

When Kurt didn't respond, Blaine stormed out of the room. It had seriously been one hell of a long day for him, and to come home and find his fiancé snooping through his things...That just ultimately made everything worse. Now, he wasn't sure if he could trust Kurt—not that he did to begin with—but he did offer some lenience when it came to their relationship. Shrugging off his jacket, he nearly tore off his silk button up shirt, frustrated when the clothes wouldn't get off his body fast enough. This entire day had been a clusterfuck, and with Kurt disobeying him like that, it was just the icing on the cake. Blaine grumbled as he took off his pants, standing ass naked in the room, fuming. The door creaked open and Kurt slide through, looking completely solemn and remorseful.

"Blaine…." He said quietly, wringing his hands. "I'm sorry I blamed you—"

"Kurt," Blaine warned. "I don't want to talk about this right now. I've had a hell of a day and coming home to you going through my things wasn't exactly what I was expecting."

"I didn't mean to…Invade your privacy…." Kurt said slowly. "I was just...I need answers, okay? Why won't you tell me where you work? Why do I have to hear from Wes and David that you won't be home for dinner?"

"Enough!" Blaine roared. "What part of _not right now_ do you not understand?"

"I don't understand why everything has to be on your terms!" Kurt screamed back.

Blaine scoffed, strutting into the bathroom to splash cold water onto his face.

"I'm not finished!" Kurt called. "We have to talk about this,"

"There is nothing to say," Blaine said as he came out of the bathroom. "_Questa conversazione è finite _—I'm done Kurt,"

"You haven't said anything yet!" He replied. "I love you but…I can't, I won't…."

"You can't what…?" Blaine snarled, taking a step forward.

Kurt swatted tears away from his eyes. "Tell me what's going on or else…There isn't going to be a wedding."

Blaine gave him a hard look, hurt mixed with betrayal slashed across his face before he masked it quickly. Eerily calm, his eyes darkened and his face twisted into determination. "Are you giving me an ultimatum?"

Kurt wanted to stand his ground because he deserved answers, but Blaine was making everything so difficult. "Yes, I am." He replied with a shaky voice.

Blaine could clearly see that Kurt had no intention of leaving him; he was trying to assert his right to have a say in their relationship, which he did have. It was just that Blaine didn't want to discuss this matter right now.

"Fine," He said, storming into the closet and beginning to take his clothes off the hooks.

"What are you doing?" Kurt asked astounded when his fiancé started throw all of his suits onto the bed.

"I'm leaving," Blaine said shortly.

Kurt paled visibly. "W-what do you mean? No, Blaine, stop!" He walked towards his fiancé and frantically pushed his hands away from the suitcase he got from underneath the bed.

"If you can't appreciate—"

"I do!" Kurt said quickly. "Don't go…Let's work this out. I'm sorry for saying that there isn't going to be a wedding,"

"You very damn well should be," Blaine snarled. "This isn't some fucking game Kurt. When I tell you that I'm tired and we can discuss this tomorrow, I mean it!"

"I know…I'm sorry," Kurt beseeched.

Blaine calmed down. "Good. Now, I'm going to take a shower and then we can discuss this." He waltzed into the bathroom slamming the door behind him.

Taking in a shaky breath, he braced his hands against the counter. This was not how he imagined things to be going. Kurt was becoming increasingly inquisitive, which could only be problematic in the future. Growling, he slammed his fist against the counter; things just would be so much easier if Kurt knew what was going on. Yet, knowing could put him in danger. Turning on the water, he stepped under the spray, allowing the hot water to massage the knots in his back. It dawned on him that Kurt had almost cancelled their wedding because of his deception.

Sighing deeply, he knew it was probably time to start telling the truth.

**iIi**

In all of 48 hours Kurt had a gun pointed at his head, fought with Blaine and found out he now owned a house. To say he was exhausted was a complete understatement. The whole situation was downright infuriating and tiresome at the same time. Why did Blaine insist on keeping secrets? Of course he was grateful for the house, but that was something they should have picked out together. Although Blaine had said it was a surprise that still didn't change the fact that he wasn't included in any of the planning. Didn't Blaine want his opinion on the house structure? Interior design? Matching sheets? Frowning, he sat at his vanity trying to do his skin routine when the bathroom door swung open and his boyfriend came out with only a towel wrapped around his waist. Silently, Blaine walked towards the closet and threw the towel inside, walking naked to their bed.

"Come to bed," He demanded.

Kurt turned to look at his fiancé. Noticing the brooding expression, he quickly finished up and crawled into bed. Without wasting time, Blaine wrapped his arm around him, nearly crushing his body to his chest.

"Curious George, eh..?" Blaine joked. "I guess that makes me the man in the yellow hat left to explain everything,"

"I'm sorry I went through your things,"

"It's okay. I should have told you about the house….It was Cooper's idea actually, but we all thought it would be a good gift once we returned from our honeymoon. I wanted things to be special for you—_il mio amore._"

"It's beautiful," Kurt said wistfully. "I can't thank you enough,"

"I'm sorry about the gun, Kurt…I shouldn't have…Well, I thought you were an intruder…but that doesn't excuse my actions….. I want you to know that there are things about my life that you wouldn't understand…."

Kurt twisted in his arms to look up at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that….My job isn't the safest…or the most conventional job. And in order to keep you safe, you have to be aware that I won't be able to share information,"

"What information?" Kurt asked slowly.

"Information about what I do, specifically, and who's involved," Blaine explained. "There are a lot of people who wouldn't like you knowing, and I don't want things to be dangerous for you,"

"_Blaine_," Kurt hissed, agitation seeping through his tone. "I'm not a child! I'm an adult and your fiancé…Your life partner! I deserve to know what's going on, regardless of how dangerous it could be." Kurt huffed. "I need you to trust me,"

"I do." Blaine lied. "That's all I can share right now and I promise I'll tell you more, just... Right now it's not safe. Not just for you, but for everyone else involved, okay?" He kissed Kurt's forehead.

"Alright," Kurt replied, not fully satisfied with that answer. "But I want to know everything,"

"You will, in time." Blaine said, running his hands up and down Kurt's smooth skin in a slightly placating way. "Now get undressed."

Kurt hesitated, unsure if they should really be having sex after such a huge argument. The look on Blaine's face though, made him think twice about it.

"Okay," with shakings hands Kurt took off his skirt, pants and underwear, throwing them on the floor before snuggling back into the bed.

"You've been bad," Blaine said, eyes darkening. "Wouldn't you agree? Snooping through things that don't belong to you is a punishable offense. We'll have to do something about it,"

Kurt shrunk under his gaze. "We do?"

"Indeed,"

"What?" Kurt breathed.

"You know what," Blaine snarled, slapping Kurt's ass roughly. "You'll have to pay for that,"

In one smooth movement, Blaine moved to grab the discarded container of lube from the dresser drawer. He uncapped the bottle, squeezed some lube on his fingers and didn't wait to slide two fingers smoothly into Kurt's stretched entrance. Kurt groaned, hands flying to cover his eyes and clenching in fists. He lifted his hips into the touch as Blaine roughly pumped his fingers in and out.

"You like that?" growled Blaine, Kurt's whole body squeezing around him. He intentionally dragged his fingers over Kurt's prostate with every thrust.

"_Yes,"_said Kurt. "God, yes, _please_."

Kurt practically screamed when Blaine added another finger, mouth falling open in a wordless cry as Blaine kept the hard rhythm up. Kurt was already stretched, so it didn't take much, and after a few minutes he was shaking so hard that Blaine knew that nothing would be able to stop him from coming if they kept this up.

Soon enough, Blaine's straining cock was drenched in more lube and he easily picked Kurt up, too desperate to be gentle, positioning them so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed with Kurt straddling his hips, facing one another. Kurt's chest was flushed.

When Kurt leaned down to kiss him, Blaine quickly took control; he grabbed the back of Kurt's neck, dragged his teeth over Kurt's lips and breathed in the small needy noises Kurt kept making into his mouth. It was hard and ruthless, a claim. He grabbed Kurt's hips as they kiss, hands wide enough to stretch around and knead into Kurt's ass, and then he pulled the slender boy down onto his cock.

"Fucking _yes_," hissed Kurt as Blaine pulls him down.

"Don't disobey me, slut. Ever again," Blaine growled. "_Questo è la tua punizione, puttuna _—Ugh, yes,"

Blaine guided Kurt down until he was fully inside him, Kurt's arms wrapped around his neck and his whole body shaking. He knew his boyfriend was too boneless and overwhelmed to move, so Blaine gripped his hips and moved Kurt's whole body up and down as he pushed up into Kurt's body in tandem. Kurt threw his head back and groaned as Blaine used his strength to slide Kurt's body onto his cock over and over again, the hot stretch of Kurt's body around him feeling so good to seem unreal.

"Never," gasped Kurt, clinging to him frantically.

"Only mine!"

"Only... o-only yours. _Fuck_, Blaine, _please_."

Kurt reached down and began to desperately touch himself, hand trapped between their bodies as he frantically pulled himself off. The sight of Kurt unable to help himself any longer was too much, too _much_, and Blaine tightened his grip and pounded up into him. Kurt coiled, arms tightening around Blaine's neck as he held on while his whole body was being jerked and moving in time with each of Blaine's powerful thrust.

His eyes rolled back into his head, cock bobbing up and down as the pleasure blossomed in his stomach, spreading the warm through his entire body. He gasped and grunted every time Blaine plunged deep within him, sending sharp spikes of pleasure through his entire body.

"Ugh, I'm so close," Kurt nearly screamed, closing his eyes tightly.

Blaine moved faster, harder, like wild man. The entire bed slammed against the wall which each movement and Kurt found himself clawing at his boyfriend's back. Biting down on his neck, Kurt screamed, as his orgasm plows through him, blinding him temporarily with white lights and sensational whiplashes of electric shockwaves as he cummed in hot spurts all over their stomachs. Going completely limp, he could hardly hold on anymore, but he knew Blaine wasn't finished yet, because even though he was overly sensitive Blaine was still fucking him, relentlessly, and it hurt.

The grip on his hips was painfully tight and he knew he'd have a bruise there tomorrow. Sweat was pouring off his face and back. He desperately wanted to tell Blaine to stop, but he didn't, because he loves feeling so full. However, the dull ache had now turned into splitting pain. After three forceful thrust, Blaine was coming deep inside him, shaking and panting into his neck, hips periodically jerking forward to ride out his release.

Once he was done, he collapsed onto the bed, hugging Kurt close and breathing harshly. Weaving his fingers through Blaine's wild hair, Kurt gave him a solid kiss on the mouth.

"Are you okay, beautiful?" Blaine asked tenderly, kissing his cheek. "Sorry, I was a bit rough,"

"No…" Kurt breathed. "I liked it,"

Blaine smirked. "Of course you did,"

After that comment his breath even outs and Kurt knew he fell asleep.

Leaning into Blaine's arms, he found himself in a whirlwind of doubt. Throughout the whole conversation his boyfriend had been dodging his questions, instead giving vague answers that didn't make much sense to him. The trust he once thought was their unbreakable bond, now seemed unbelievably fragile, like it could break at any second. Without trust what kind of relationship did they really have? Biting his lip Kurt didn't want to think about the answer to that. So, instead, he laid there in Blaine's arms, debating with himself, unsure if this is the life he really wanted.

There was a decision he needed to make.

And he needed to make it _fast_.

**iIi**

"Where are you going?"

"Where do I go every morning, Hunter?"

"I don't understand why you feel the need to mingle with commoners," Hunter answered tiredly as he sat down across from his brother. "We have coffee here,"

"So?" Sebastian asked, looking up briefly from the paper that was stretched out in front of him. "I like the way they make it,"

"What makes theirs better than ours?"

"I don't know…It just tastes better…." Sebastian answered, not taking his eyes off the paragraph he was reading.

Hunter pressed his lips together; he didn't like being ignored. "So what's the plan for tonight?"

"No plans,"

Hunter sputtered. "What the hell do you mean? Anderson has begun mobilizing close at our area and we aren't going to do anything about it? "

"Nope," Sebastian said, popping the p and turning the page.

His brother's nonchalance was starting to madden him greatly; leaning back in his chair, Hunter calmly threaded his fingers together. "Hmm, so what do you propose we do once he gets his hands on our merchandise?"

"We wait," Sebastian continued, finally looking up at his brother's tenses expression. "We won't make any hasty decisions….We can't afford to pay off the cops like Anderson yet. But in time, once we've built up enough respect, we will. Besides I've got something else planned."

Hunter scoffed. "I sincerely hope you don't mean the lowly waiter, do you? Because he is just so unbelievably pathetic,"

"He may be pathetic, but he's Blaine's _play_ thing. Surely, he must have some significance, and he'll come in handy when we really want to do some damage…."

Hunter smirked. "Well done. I see you've learned a thing or two from father. This plan might actually have some precedence, and we'll have someone useful, unlike that whore you keep around,"

Sebastian glared at his brother. "That whore, specifically Brittany S. Pierce, is the ex-girlfriend of detective Evan's and he wants Anderson brought down just like we do,"

"I suppose you're right," Hunter sighed. "But the Latina…She is so feisty. Why must we keep her around?"

"For your annoyance," Sebastian joked.

"Can't we just throw her in a ditch somewhere?"

"No,"

"Please," Hunter whined.

"No, now I need to get going." Sebastian said, throwing his newspaper on the table. "The girl stays. Stop antagonizing her; she's one of our best sellers," He was just about the leave the table when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He smiled looking at the caller I.D, and picked up smoothly after the third ring.

"Why, hello_,_ Detective Evans,"

"Cut the shit, Smythe," Sam roared on the other end. "Do you have the evidence to bring Anderson down or not?"

"I will soon," Sebastian said calmly. "You sound a little tense,"

"Never mind that," Sam spat impatiently. "Just procure the evidence and get back to me quickly,"

"Sure, will do. I'm on my way to the restaurant right now,"

**iIi**

"So…About that date…."

"Please, I honestly can't deal with this today," Kurt replied tiredly to Sebastian, who was sitting at his usual table.

"Well, too bad princess, 'cause I'd like to discuss the terms of our agreement,"

"What does that even means? What agreement?"

Sebastian smirked. "Well, if you go out with me, I can't promise to keep my hands to myself,"

"Ugh," Kurt threw his hands up in the air. "You're impossible,"

"I know,"

"I'm not interested,"

"Doubtful,"

Kurt scoffed. "How so….?"

"Everyone is interested in me," Sebastian said. "Admit it you're curious to know what good sex is like,"

"I know what _great_ sex is like," Kurt quipped.

Sebastian laughed. "Is that why you always look so unsatisfied?"

"Just stay out of my business," Kurt snapped, now getting angry.

He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, but don't think people don't notice how unhappy you are,"

"I'm not unhappy,"

"Who are you trying to convince here? Because I know for a fact it isn't me," Sebastian continued with the same infuriating smile.

Kurt bristled; clenching his fists together he stood, staring at the man who could all of sudden read him like an open book. It was unnerving how Sebastian knew exactly what to say to get under his skin and torment him.

"That'll be three fifty," Kurt replied through gritted teeth.

Tossing some money onto the table, Sebastian stood with an unfathomable expression. "You matter, Kurt and so does your happiness," He shoved his hands into his pocket and walked out the door.

For a minute, Kurt just stood there, staring after him. What he said made his heart clench uncomfortably in his chest. Sighing, he went back to work, busing the tables and cleaning up after those people's mess. When he caught sight of gelled hair, his smiled widened and he approached his fiancé's table.

"Hey baby!" Kurt called dancing towards him. "Sorry I kept you waiting, Mr. Harris just wanted me to put some stuff away," He leaned down to kiss his boyfriends cheek and when he pulled away he noticed the stoic maddening look on Blaine's face.

"Baby…?" Kurt said gently, unsure of what could have happened in the past few minutes to piss Blaine off. "Are you okay?"

"No," Blaine said brusquely, jaw clenched. "I just want to know when the fuck where you going to tell me that Sebastian was coming to the restaurant?"

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed the last Chapter and to my extraordinary Beta ElleA26it:) If you have already check out my new story Porcelain Dolls, its a cross-dressing Klaine fic! ****Anyway, I'm honestly unsure if everyone is enjoy this story because of the lack of reviews, your feedback greatly appreciated and important. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Warning: This story contain's scenes of homosexuality, sexuality, graphic violence, course language so please read with caution.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own glee**

* * *

_My Big Fat Gay Italian Wedding_

* * *

"It's too tight."

"No, it'll fit. Just let me—"

"You're doing it all wrong! You have to ease it in carefully—"

"It doesn't look right, maybe if we turn it this way—Ouch!"

"Blaine," Kurt chastised. "Stay still!"

"I'm hot," He whined. "Can't we at least wait until after dinner is done?"

"Stop whining Blaine," Sofia snapped. "We've got a lot of work to do, and hardly any time to finish."

Blaine grumbled under his breath as a few women got his fitted for his Tuxedo. Truthfully, he couldn't believe all the effort that went into this.

"Why can't we wear our top hats?" David moaned.

"Don't start with me Dave," Kurt snapped pointing a pin at him. On his knees he steadily measured the length of Blaine's suit, while Sofia and Catherina did the others. It was tricky when his fiancé kept moving and complaining, but he managed to jot down the information he needed.

"I look absolutely ridiculous," Wes mumbled, crossing his arms.

"I think Nick looks hot," Jeff said admiring his fiancé.

"I think so too," Nick said. "But these pants do nothing for my voluptuous ass."

"So many single bridesmaids, so little time," Cooper said, wiggling his eyebrows as Kurt swatted at him. "What? Do you know how desperate women become at weddings?"

"Not desperate enough to sleep with you," Alberto replied casually.

"You'd be surprised," Cooper said.

"Why does he want to sleep with Bridesmaids? Huh? Why not a nice Italian girl—"

"No, _Nonna_!"

"You don't have to be so tasty," Catherina grumbled before going back to work on Wes's pant suit.

"Seriously, baby, we've been standing here for hours—"

"Hold still!" Kurt snarled, trying to find the right measurements. "I'm almost done."

"You said that three hours ago—"

"Blaine you are making things exceptionally difficult!" Kurt nearly yelled at him and then threw his supplies on the ground. "I'm done. I can't do this." He walked out of the room in the department store they were in.

"Now you've done it," Wes muttered.

"Dude, you are so in the dog house," Nick said.

"Excuse me," Blaine replied, following after his fiancé. Rounding the corner and going down a long hallway he found Kurt huddled next to the entrance. "Baby…?" He reached out to touch him, but Kurt jerked away.

"Don't touch me, Blaine."

He sighed. "I'm sorry. Please, don't be mad—"

"It's kind of hard not to when all of you think this is some big fucking joke."

"You know we don't."

Kurt scoffed. "Whatever, I just need some time alone."

"Look," Blaine said shoving his hands into his pockets. "Is this about last night?"

"What do you think?"

"I shouldn't have accused you like that...It was wrong and I don't know how else to show you how sorry I am—"

"How could you even think I would cheat on you with Sebastian?" Kurt asked. "Just because he was flirting with me doesn't mean that I encouraged it—"

"No," Blaine replied coolly. "But you did your best to keep it hidden."

"That's because I knew you'd overreact."

"You don't know Sebastian he isn't who you think he is—"

"Well, then, why don't you tell me who he is?"

Blaine turned away, his jaw clenching. "We should head back."

"That's perfect, isn't it?" Kurt said, his temper rising. "Who should I stay away from next, huh? The Chef? Perhaps the gardener too?"

"Why can't you just trust my judgement on this?"

"More like dictatorship," Kurt spat. "I feel like I'm suffocating, Blaine, and you refuse to answer the simplest questions."

There was a long pause and Kurt began to wonder if his fiancé had heard him.

"I love you," Blaine whispered vehemently. "Isn't that enough?"

Kurt scoffed. "No...Not anymore."

**iIi**

Anthony's lips curled over his teeth as he stared at his son. "_Maledizione_," He cursed, eyes blazing. "_Come hai potuto essere così stupido_?" He sneered, stubbing his cigar out. "This isn't some game, Blaine. You let yourself become exposed to the public. Do you know what I had to do to make that little incident disappear—"

"I am very well aware father," Blaine snapped, uncrossing his legs.

It was difficult trying to maintain a respectful manner in front of his father when he was being treated like a six year old. Smoothing out his Armani suit, he wondered how long this would take because they had to get back to the dinner party. They were in his father's work study room, Blaine sat directly in front of Anthony, while Cooper and Albert hung around, each of them trying to figure out a way to keep the Smythe Enterprise from growing.

"This thing has become problematic," Alberto interjected.

"Look, Bro, I know the guy deserved it for saying something so ignorant, but you defiantly overreacted—"

"Who the fuck asked you anyway?" Blaine spat out. "Honestly, why are you even here?"

"Watch your mouth," Anthony barked. "I asked him to be here." He sighed, rubbing his forehead. "_La situazione ci sta sfuggendo di mano _—Okay, let me get this straight; you beat a man up in public with the blunt end of a gun with your fiancé and a few bystanders watching? Now are you saying that Sebastian Santangelo Smythe has been trying to get information out of Kurt?"

"_Si_," Blaine said, shifting in his chair. "Kurt doesn't know anything—"

"Yet," Anthony corrected. "He doesn't know anything _yet_. When are you planning to enlighten your—_bel ragazzo_?"

"Soon, I just need a bit more time."

"You're running out of that, Blaine." Alberto said, lighting a cigarette and inhaling deeply. "We've got three new shipments coming in this week on the West side, that means you'll be busy on the East; I need your full attention."

Blaine rubbed his temple. "Well, it's not like he doesn't suspect something, but I just can't right now…Give me a week."

"This has gone on long enough," Anthony snarled. "He is going to be your husband so you better start telling him the truth."

"Fine, are we done?"

"Not even close," Anthony said. "What are you planning to do about Smythe?"

"What can I do? If he's moving in on our territory we could threaten him, but I doubt that would do much."

"I think we should probably focus on who his allies are and why he was so interested in Kurt to begin with," Alberto said. "He's obviously looking for something, perhaps a loop hole in your relationship to see if he can find out inside information."

"He won't find anything out from Kurt," Blaine promised. "Fuck, I didn't even want him to be involved in this."

"Too late for that," Cooper muttered. "Look, I don't think Sebastian is that stupid; he must have known this information would get back to you, right? I think he's just fucking with you, Blaine."

"Hmm, I think so too." Blaine agreed. "It's a distraction from what he's really after."

Anthony checked his watch. "We should get back to the party before your mother throws a fit. You have body guards for Kurt?"

"Of course," Blaine replied.

"Then keep your guard up, this kid isn't like what we were expecting; he's young, so he's bound to make a mistake sooner or later." Anthony said straightening his sleek black blazer. "Let's go,"

The four men exited the room, each of them going their separate ways once the door opened. It was their annual black tie event at the Botticelli-Anderson house, where the most prestigious men and women from the social elite attended. To Blaine it was an ass kissing event, where he had to basically make sure all these people would vouch for him if he ever needed them to, in return he'd do odd favours for them. Gathering some courage, he shook various hands, dishing out compliments and charming the panties off their house wives; it was a routine he practiced to perfection to get people to do what he wanted.

To him all these people were fucking pawns in his game, and if he played his cards right, by the time he built his own empire, he would be untouchable.

"Blaine," Sue Sylvester smiled at him.

"Sue," He muttered distastefully. If she wasn't Chief Commissioner of the NYPA force he would have thrown her out of his house. "I didn't know you were invited, I'm pretty sure this is a _closed_ event."

"Oh please," Sue said waving her hand dismissively. "You know I have my ways of slipping through the cracks. I'm actually kind of insulted that you didn't invite me, considering what I did to make that little incident go away."

"Yes, well I guess your invite got lost in the mail."

"We both know that's ninety-nine percent bullshit," Sue snarked. "Listen, you little shit, I don't take kindly to being ignored, so now that I've done something for your you better understand that I will be expecting some sort of a payment. Nothing in this life comes for free, short stuff. Now, if you'll excuse me, the stench of your mediocrity is getting on my clothing." She turned sharply and walked away.

_Fuck_, all he needed in this moment was to be in debt to that woman.

Feeling his blood boil he scanned the room for Kurt, but was a little disappointed when he didn't see him. Pursing his lips, he continued to look around for his fiancé and was getting irritated every second that went by. Kurt knew he was supposed to stay close and be within his line of sight at all times. Clicking his tongue, he considered calling Wes but at the last minute decided against it; Kurt was probably wrapped up with his mom trying to configure their wedding. There was also something in the air that didn't sit well with Blaine; it was as if he could feel the tension or something raw and evil approaching.

It was suffocating him.

"Squirt," Cooper said coming to stand beside him. "Dad wants you to meet with some potential investors."

"Alright," Blaine sighed, straightening his jacket. "Let the ass kissing begin."

Together, they disappeared into the crowd.

**iIi**

Tonight had been incredibly slow, which meant she was in deep shit.

Santana brushed her long locks over her shoulder, looking at the bar that was completely dead, only a few men occupied it, while a few others were dispersed around the club. Cursing under her breath she wanted to kick Hunter for ordering so much cocaine that they couldn't even move in time to pay their supplier back.

It was just bad business on his part. But she knew she'd be the one to pay the price in the end.

Glancing at the stage she saw her girlfriend dance expertly on the pole, twirling and shredding her clothing at the same it. The dead look in Brittany's eyes was enough to alarm Santana, but she didn't dare interfere, mainly because she knew they were being watched closely by Hunter's goons. Sighing, she just continued doing her job, wiping down the counter and making sure these lowly men had their drinks. It was just a few more minutes until closing, and then she could go home with her girlfriend.

"Rough night…?" Puck asked coming to stand beside her.

Although he was one of Hunter's trusted body guards, they had maintain a friendship through the years.

"You have no idea." Santana said exhaling loudly.

"It's pretty dead tonight." Puck commented, leaning against the counter. "Hunter's going to be pissed."

"Well, there isn't much I can do about it."

"I know….Look, I can try selling some outside. They have a couple of bars down the street and people might be willing to buy."

"No," Santana said shaking her head. "You're on probation, I can't ask you to do that."

"It's not a big deal and people will be more willing to buy from me, no offense."

"Doesn't matter," Santana said firmly. "This is my problem. I'll deal with it."

Puck shrugged. "Okay, but I'm here if you need me." His eyes slide over to the next dancer to take the stage who was grinding on the pole while taking off her loose fitting top.

Santana smirked. "She brings in the most tips."

"That's my girl," Puck smiled, before sauntering towards the stage to sit in the front row. Quinn was a very pretty girl with flirty eyes, and if she wasn't straight, Santana would be all over that. However, Quinn was with Puck and she could respect that, plus she had Brittany.

That didn't stop her from admiring her body though.

Nice pretty pink erect nipples, perfect for cupping and fondling—

"Ready?"

"Huh?" Santana turned towards the voice and saw her girlfriend standing in front of her. "Oh, yeah sure give me a few minutes for last call."

"Alright," Brittany said.

"Hey, are you okay?" Santana asked at her forlorn expression.

"Just give me a shot of Tequila and I'll be fine."

"One shot coming up." Santana said taking out a shot glassing and pouring the golden liquid inside. Brittany drowned the shot, grimacing before slamming it down on the table. Signalling to Puck, she began to lock the register and shut off some of the back lights behind the besmirched bar. When the last customers left the building, she grabbed her jacket and locked the front door, exiting through the staff entrance with Brittany and Puck.

"See ya'll tomorrow." Santana called to the rest of the girls who were still getting dressed.

A chorus of byes called behind them as they left for the night. Holding hands they walked through the crisp night air.

"So are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Santana asked tugging gently on Brittany's hand.

"I got a call from _him_ today…"

Santana gritted her teeth together. "What did he want?"

"He just wanted to see how I was doing….If we were still together…" Brittany said. "Maybe he can help us Santana—"

"He's a police officer," Santana snapped. "We can't go to him for help. He'd fucking rat us out and we both know how much he'd _love_ to do that."

"I think you're wrong." Brittany whispered. "Sam's a good guy—"

"I don't want to hear any more about it." Santana said with finality. "We only have each other."

"I can't do this!" Brittany yelled, it was so abrupt that Santana flinched from her raised voice. They stopped walking, both a little jarred from Brittany's outburst and she racked her brain to try and come up with a solution. The problem was that they were in debt; deep in debt to the Smythe's, and there was no way they'd be able to get out of it. Despite her best efforts, Santana wanted to believe that things would work out in the end, but Sebastian was a cruel manipulative bastard who wouldn't piss on them if they were on fire. "I'm sick of this, we need help Santana."

"I told you I could handle it—"

"And how are you doing that? We are stuck in this shithole until we pay back Sebastian and even if we run, he'll find us."

"Don't you think I know that?" Santana barked, fear clogging in her throat. "We don't have a chance and even if we had it, we wouldn't get far enough. But if we play our cards right, maybe…We won't have to, and everything they've forced us into will go away—"

Brittany shook her head. "No, no, we need to start fighting back. Hunter and Sebastian aren't the only criminals in this city."

"What are you suggesting? That we get involved with someone else? Who could treat us worse than they do—"

"What if it was someone we knew?" Brittany said.

Santana stared at her questionably.

"Who..?"

"Lord Tubbington says it's the gay dolphin."

**iIi**

Forcing air out of his mouth, he stood hip cocked to the side with a miserable expression.

Absolutely and completely dejected, Kurt stood off alone, away from the sea of lavish men and women calmly nursing his Champagne. It was bad enough he was stuck fucking alone, in a room full of people he didn't know, but Blaine had managed to disappear with a short but stern warning to stay put. He wasn't some dog that would obey on command so naturally he wandered, out of spite and now he was lost—not that he cared much. Since the day in the coffee shop, when Blaine accused Kurt of lying and cheating, things between them were worse.

Exhaling, he took a long sip, feeling the alcohol slide down his throat, the liquid burned but then went down smoothly. There was something very wrong with this situation. He was in a room full of the most influential people in New York City, dressed in the finest tailored suite that money could offer, yet he wished he were anywhere else.

Coming here had been a mistake.

A long time ago he would have been in awestruck and wide-eyed as his fiancé guided him around the room like he was on a cloud. Now, he just wished the ground would swallow him whole. Taking a swing of his drink, his eyes fixated on gel hair mingling with the crowd; it seems his fiancé was chatting with some very important men. Watching closely, he observed Blaine play his part exceptionally well, and if he didn't notice before, he certainly did now: the suave way in which Blaine spoke; purposefully articulating his words, charming and elegant. What he used to find very exciting and sexy, now deeply disturbed him.

Blaine wasn't the man he'd known from his youth.

No, this man was much more deviant, cunning and powerful.

Still, oddly enough, he was attracted to his slick style and malevolent actions; in some twisted way Kurt understood that in order to be successful one must project an image of success. Observing Blaine walking around the room as if he owned the place, turning heads, and speaking so strongly that he commands those around him, turned Kurt on.

He could feel himself becoming hard through his slacks, imagining being viciously fucked by his boyfriend, much like last night. Their lovemaking was always ravenous, filled with lust and unquenchable thirst that he barely understood. And even though he is upset about being lied to, degraded and controlled, he still loves Blaine.

"What a lovely party," said a voice deadpanned next to him.

Startled, Kurt turned towards a very attractive man with bleach blonde hair, large inviting lips and broad shoulders. He looked out of place in the sea of social elite, and he strike Kurt as the type of person who didn't come to these events often. For one thing, his clothing was all wrong; shirt dishevelled, wrinkled and un-tucked from his pants. And for a black tie event, he was wearing an off brown blazer that looked like it was made in the 70's.

"Yeah," Kurt muttered eyeing him closely.

"Detective Sam Evan's," The man said, stretching his hand out. "But I'm off duty right now."

"Hmm," He shook his hand briefly before letting go. "Kurt Hummel."

"I know who you are," Sam said. "You belong to Anderson right?"

Kurt gritted his teeth together. "We are engaged, yes."

Sam snorted. "Well, good luck kid."

Kurt didn't like the man, not one bit. "I'm sorry, but how exactly do you know Blaine?"

"I've known that piece of shit for a long time." Sam turned towards him, eyes raging. "He isn't someone to be trusted. You and I both know that. Word on the street is that you're some piece of ass he picked up a few years ago, but I'll tell you a secret; what you don't know is that your little fiancé used to be butt buddy with Smythe."

Kurt felt like he was being punched in the gut.

He stared, jaw slacked, at the man in front of him as he delivered blow after blow. Immediately he went to Blaine's defense.

"And I'm supposed to believe you? A complete stranger…?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't really care what you believe, but it's the truth. Sebastian and Blaine were lovers, not that anybody knew about it."

"What do you gain by telling me this? So what if they were….Blaine is with me now."

"Have you ever considered the possibility that Blaine isn't exactly who you think he is? And that maybe his relationship with Sebastian isn't all about hatred and jealousy but unrequited love?"

"That sounds like complete bullshit to me." Kurt said sternly. "Blaine would never do anything to hurt me intentionally."

"And you're sure about that?"

"Yes," Kurt replied without hesitation.

"What if there was a bigger picture you were missing? We are all interconnected…..You know as well as I do that Blaine isn't ordinary and if his business happened to be involved with Smythe's then I would be in my right to take legal action."

"Blaine runs a legitimate business—"

"Please, spare me your lies. I've been doing this a hell of a lot longer than you have." Sam answered tiredly. "We both know that it's bullshit."

"What exactly is your point detective?"

"Get out."

"What?"

"Get out while you still can Kurt. When the shit hits the fan I'm taking everyone down. "He swore with a vengeance. "I don't care who gets in my way and if you had any sense of self-worth you'd leave Anderson and never look back."

Kurt swallowed thickly, his heart thundering in his chest.

"You look like a good kid and I don't know why or how but a day will come when you think you're safe and happy, and suddenly your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and you'll know the debt is repaid."

Kurt stared after him as he walked away wondering where the hell that came from. However, those words made an eerie feeling to crawl up his spine and he naturally pondered Sam's cryptic message.

_We are all interconnected._

If that were true then how did Sam fit into all of this?

* * *

**A/N: *peeks up from behind a chair* I know I'm horribly overdue for this update! But I just want to thank everyone for all their amazing reviews for the last Chapter! And to my wonderful Beta ElleA26it for editing! You rock:p In the next Chapter Blaine gets a visit from someone he least expects. **


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